Not even a first chance!
by senawario
Summary: (alt title: Disproportionate response). Give the death-eaters a second chance? No way, not even a *first* chance! This is a "redo" fic with a twist. The pairing will eventually be Harmony but a good part of the story happens when they are too young so hard-core Harmonians need to be patient. Rated M for possible violence in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: The Twist

Chapter 1: The Twist

 **Omnibus Legal Disclaimer for all chapters:** anything you recognise in this story belongs to someone else, most likely to JK Rowling and/or her business partners. Any characters you _don't_ recognise, as well as first names of some you do (where I don't remember what canon had) are completely made up names picked at random from a word list. (Literally! For the geeks among you, it's basically variations on grep '^[A-Z]' /usr/share/dict/words | shuf | head, repeated, if necessary, until I find something I like.)

 **Omnibus Author Notes** : I don't much like author notes in general, so, other than an occasional footnote explaining an obscure reference or allusion, there won't be any. I know ANs are used for lots of things: explanations of motivations or behaviour, asking for opinions, responding to reviews, and of course the ever-present begging for reviews. Sorry, but there'll be none of that here.

Speaking of reviews, by all means leave a review if you feel strongly about something. But honestly, I don't care; I'll probably ignore most of them anyway. I'm really doing this for my own entertainment. However, if you spot serious technical errors (English grammar and spelling, past tense/present tense or first person/third person mismatches between nearby paragraphs, homophones (the ultimate sign of illiteracy), etc.) I will listen and thank you for bringing them to my notice. Although I must warn you, my punctuation is a bit off-standard: I dislike putting the comma or period inside the quote for some reason. So leave that alone (or at least, don't expect me to fix that, since it's intentional).

* * *

 _Where the heck am I?_ , thought Harry. _The last thing I remember is Riddle hitting me with a reducto._ He was sitting on a small but comfortable chair, with his back to the wall, in what looked like a hallway. He was wondering if this was heaven, but the hallway did not have any features that would tell him one way or another; it simply stretched, long and white, both to his left and to his right. Besides, what would he know about heaven anyway, other than "no Dursleys, I hope". Or indeed so many other things from his so-called "life".

He wasn't even sure whether he should simply stay there and wait for someone, or start walking. So he waited a bit (how long? Who knows!) then randomly chose to go left and started walking. Well, not entirely random, he supposed. There was a very low but distinct hum, as of many voices in normal conversation at a distance, from that side.

And that was what it turned out to be.

The hallway ended abruptly; without any warning there was a door the same color as the walls. Almost perfectly camouflaged, except for a small silver door handle that he could not see until he came right up to it. Tentatively he put his hand forward, turned the handle, and opened the door slowly.

The door opened into a very large room, painted the same bright white as the hallway he had just left. The ceiling was higher, but he could not see any visible light source except the windows regularly spaced around the walls. And yet the middle of the room, far away from the windows, was as well-lit as the parts closer to the walls. There were several people in white robes sitting at desks dotted around the room and doing something he could not discern at all. It was weird; he was definitely not too far to see what they were doing, and should have been able to. It was like he was not allowed to see what was happening!

"OY! How did you get in?", a loud protest jolted Harry, making him start to turn around. Someone had walked in behind him through the same door he had entered, and was now tugging at his arm to turn him fully around and answer the question.

Harry decided he had nothing to lose. He was already dead anyway, what more could they do? Whoever "they" were!

"Well, there are these things called 'doors' you know, and they have little metal thingies called-".

"Why do I _always_ end up with the smart-alecks?", grumbled the man. "Alright, shut up. You should be in the west wing for Arrival Processing, not here. Let's go!", and he yanked at Harry's arm to indicate that he should follow him.

And so Harry found himself walking back along the hallway again, following the man. He took a few seconds to examine him, but the man had absolutely no distinguishing features. He was neither tall nor short, neither fair nor dark, neither thin nor fat. Before Harry could spend more time on this, however, they reached the other end of the hallway, and a similar door. Curiously, the chair he was sitting on just a few minutes ago, was no longer there, but Harry did not feel up to asking about it.

* * *

The room inside this door was quite different. It was a wide, spacious room, with sofas of an indeterminate material dotted around at random. Some of them were occupied by people, presumably people such as himself. The back wall had several doors leading off them; again the same bright white, with the same small silver handles. It was this vast expanse of dazzling white - everywhere and anywhere you looked - that really convinced Harry he was in heaven. After all, wasn't that what heaven was _supposed_ to look like?

His guide took him to one of the sofas and told him to sit down and wait, so Harry did. After a few minutes, he got bored and looked around for something to do. He knew _many_ people who had died within an hour or two, before or after, of him at the battle, but none of them were here. _Even here, I am not normal_ , he sighed to himself, then comforted himself with the thought that there _were_ others here, even if he did not know who they were. Maybe, within their own friends and relations, they were also "not normal"! _Maybe we should have met up in life and created a "Society of Not-Normal People" - could have been fun!_

Eventually another man came out of one of the doors and beckoned to Harry to come in. Inside, he asked Harry to sit and make himself comfortable, then sat down in his chair with a sigh. He appeared to be expending an enormous amount of self-control, though Harry could not see how _he_ could be the target of the obviously suppressed rage.

"Do you realise what you have done?", he bit out finally.

Harry was non-plussed. "Umm, I died?", he asked mildly.

" **YES!** YOU DIED! You were supposed to get hit by a killing curse, not a reducto! The horcrux in your scar would have been killed and you would have gone back to life. You were supposed to have then killed this Riddle chap, married your friend Hermione, shaken up wizarding society and made those buffoons understand what they had been missing, lived to be a hundred and seventy or so, have a few kids and a lot more grandkids, and _then_ end up here. You have single-handedly screwed up a grand plan that has been in the making for a century or so, ever since Grindelwald went bad, by getting hit with a reducto instead!"

Unfortunately, all this was said in one breath, which reminded Harry of Hermione. Or would have, if Harry had heard anything beyond "married your friend Hermione".

As it is, he was staring goggle-eyed at this man, who, without even introducing himself in any way, had started off on a rant. A rant that included some really shocking information, followed by what appeared to be vague sounds that didn't really register on Harry's overloaded brain.

"Married to Hermione? But-". He tailed off, suddenly realising that it did make sense. A lot of sense, actually. There were so many instances over the years where they had shown their love for each other in so many ways. Heck, even when he was on a date with a girl he had been crushing on for a year, he had cut short their date to meet Hermione.

For that matter, why hadn't Hermione realised it? She must have; she was supposed to be the brightest witch of her age, or something like that. It can't be that she was waiting for him to realise it and do something; God knows she was bossy enough to simply _tell_ him!

Despite the situation he was in, he found himself drifting off into "what-if"-land. He would certainly have done what she said, he was used to it. It would have been just like another piece of homework. "Harry, we've only got one hour to go before curfew and we've only kissed three times. Stop working on that potions essay, come here, and snog me for two-and-a-half minutes."

 _Yeah that would be how it would play out... NOT!_ Hermione wasn't that bad, and she didn't think highly enough of herself to ever do that. But still, it was a very funny - and exciting? - visual, and Harry chuckled briefly, before becoming very sad and angry at losing the life he should have had.

"How **DARE** you laugh at this? The whole bloody world is in danger of imploding, and you are giggling about it like a demented schoolgirl?"

"Demented schoolgirl? Are you sure you're not mixing metaphors?", shot back Harry. His anger at his fate was growing, and by now he was well beyond caring what happened, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it appeared that he was already dead, and having never really been afraid of death, he could not really fear what happened _now_. And secondly, it seemed as though _they_ needed _him_ for something.

The man was now showing the first bit of color Harry had seen after his death. The man's neck, ears, and cheek were almost glowing red with anger! Deciding not to push his luck (or at least not to push it all at once), Harry tried to strike a more conciliatory note.

"Sorry I was not laughing at the- wait the whole world is in danger? What kind of danger? And what does my dying have to do with it?"

"Haven't you heard a **word** I've said? I told you what you were supposed to have done: marry Hermione, fix-", and he tailed off, looking at Harry's face. Or rather, the glazed expression in his eyes. "Snap out of it; you didn't manage it anyway. So we'll be sending you back."

"WHAT? No way am I going back! I am done. Done, I tell you, **done**!", shouted back Harry.

"Don't you want to get married to Hermione?", said the man, deciding to drop the altruism. He had been told Harry had a "saving people thing", but that seemed to have been left behind on earth; best not to rely on it too much!

"Yes of course I want to."

"Then you should go back!"

"Where is she now?"

The man looked sad. "She died shortly after you died. Hagrid carried your body into the great hall, and she just could not take it. All the fight left her, and she basically just crumpled up. The rest of your friends think a stray curse got her, but in fact her heart just stopped. Only Luna realised that."

"Will she be here soon?"

"Yes, she is being processed as we speak."

"What happens _normally_ after processing?"

"Well, people are given some accommodation, which they usually share with their real-life spouses or mat-", again the man tailed off. "Oh no, oh no you don't! You have to go back! **YOU HAVE TO GO BACK!** "

"Why? If she is here, and we can share a flat or house or whatever, what more do I need? I assume my parents and Sirius are here too?", he paused a second or two, didn't get a negative from the man, and ploughed on. "I've got nothing but constant danger and pain and heartache and suspicious looks and people trying to screw me over fifty ways from Sunday if I go back".

"But you're the boy-who-lived! You've got a saving people thing. Hermione said so!"

"I think Hermione has seen enough of my life that she will never, under any circumstances, force me to choose to go back. Especially knowing the alternative - instant happiness! So you can jolly well bugger off; I'm staying here."

"We can send you to the other place", threatened the man. But it was an empty threat, and clearly his heart wasn't in it. Harry simply stared at him, not bothering to reply.

"I can get Father in to deal with you. No one says 'no' to him."

"Well I suppose there's always a first time for everything", grinned Harry.

This went on for a while, in pretty much the same vein, until the man gave up, and said, "Let me show you what life looks like down there when you don't go back".

And he did. And it was horrible. Riddle had won, of course, and had taken over magical England completely. The statute of secrecy was in shambles, and muggles were in pitched battles with the death-eaters in various parts of the country. London looked like it did during the worst parts of the second world war, and some of the other cities weren't much better. Bristol, notably, was in much worse shape, as were many small towns and villages in Wales.

Harry was moved, but not enough. "This is war. It happens. I don't see anything happening outside the British Isles, so I assume mainland Europe, the USA, and Asia will help out. I know enough of world trade and economics to believe that is a good possibility."

"It's too late for about two hundred thousand muggles in England, including about forty thousand children in various orphanages around the country - that is where he started hitting first", said the man sadly. He didn't appear to be putting a guilt trip on Harry; he was being very matter of fact.

"Can I talk to Hermione? Right now?", asked Harry.

"Sorry, but no."

Harry sat down and started thinking. Despite his seeming lack of care, he was of course affected. _Forty thousand children!_ , he thought. That was a kick in the guts for him. No matter how much he ranted about "why me?" at various times in his life, deep in his mind he had largely reconciled himself to being "not normal", and it was becoming easier and easier to simply accept his special status and do what he thought needed to be done.

But if he simply went back, things would repeat themselves. And it wasn't clear what help was being offered to prevent such a repeat either.

"How can you be sure something different will happen if I go back now?", he asked.

"You've died six times already; this was number seven. Each time we sent you back to your childhood, and you ended up dying a different way. So now we're sending you back with your memories and your powers so you can fix things a lot earlier, before things went totally out of control."

"How far back can you send me?"

"Technically, we could send you back to a minute after you were born, but that would achieve nothing. We also have orders - sorry Harry! - that your parents' deaths cannot be changed; that results in far far too many deaths after Halloween 1981. But realistically, it would have to be some time when you know enough of what is happening to be able to assimilate these 'future' memories and work with them, so I'd say about the end of 3rd year. You can start by cleaning up the mess that happened after the Quidditch world cup for instance."

"So, _technically_ , you can send me back to just after my parents died, but you say it won't do any good so that's useless". A nod. "I'll do it, but I have several conditions", said Harry. "Unless you agree to _all_ of them, I'm not going. Take it or leave it."

The man nodded briefly. "What are your conditions?"

"I won't go back as myself. I want Harry Potter to be as normal, within reason, as possible. That was the single worst thing in my life, because it really was the root cause of most of the other stuff. So I won't be going back as Harry. I will be going back as someone else, but with all my current powers, knowledge, and psychology, _in addition to_ the powers and knowledge that person himself has. Plus some additional powers neither of us had."

"Psychology?"

"My current way of thinking, my current values, my righteous anger at all the suffering, the vague plans forming in my mind right now, and so on. You don't get to turn me into a goody two-shoes when you send me back."

"You don't want anything of that person's _mind_ in there; just his powers?"

"And knowledge". Then he felt guilty, after all he was still Harry Potter, blaming himself for anything and everything. "The way I see it, he's already here, and all we're doing is not letting _him_ go back."

"But won't that affect the timeline?"

"No; I know everything he did; I'll make sure I do the same things." _Or at least as much of them as I need._

"Hmm; interesting. Yes that is possible, but it just never occurred to us. The prophecy says-".

"Screw the prophecy", Harry cut him off.

"Well no, we do believe in prophecies here so we can't, as you say, 'screw' it. But this will satisfy the prophecy quite well so we need not argue about it. Who were you thinking of?"

"Dobby. A free Dobby, but the Malfoys should not know he is free."

"A _house-elf_?", the man couldn't hide his shock. "Preposterous! Unheard of!".

"So's surviving the killing curse. Welcome to my life."

"But- but- becoming a _house-elf_ \- it's-", now he was stammering and stuttering.

"Bigotry? In heaven? Oh woe is me!" said Harry, putting his hand to his heart theatrically.

"It's not bigotry; I'm just not sure if it's even possible. No one has ever done this."

"Look I didn't ask to be reincarnated as the Whomping Willow you know. Dobby is a sentient being just like me; I don't consider him inferior in any way. You should know that!"

"As I said, I don't know if it can be done, and I don't want to be the first one to try!"

"Would you rather be the first one to see someone say 'no' to your Father?", said Harry, grinning. "And I haven't finished with my conditions either. I want to go back to a few seconds after Riddle gave me the scar."

The man thought for a moment. He picked up a scroll of some kind, wiped his hand over it, wrote something with his finger on it, then read a bit, frowning.

"The earliest I can get you in is 1986 sometime. Dobby was born in 1983, and elves take about 3 years to mature. You really don't want to join a child elf, trust me."

Harry thought for a bit. None of the really big problems with the Dursleys had started before he went to school, and even then only after the first year or so, though God knows it escalated pretty fast (he shuddered to think of his 7th birthday). So he agreed, saying, "I can work with that. My last condition, which probably doesn't affect you anyway, is that I will be calling myself 'Hobby'".

"Huh? Why? Though you're right I don't really care."

"Most of the 'D's in my life were bad: Dumbledore, Dursleys, Death-eaters, Dolohov, Draco. And did I mention Dumbledore? And most of the 'H's were good: Hermione, Hedwig, Hagrid, Hogwarts, and so on".

"What is this, some numerology or feng-shui nonsense? You know that's all crap right?"

"So says the man who believes in prophecies", retorted Harry. "Do we have a deal or not?"

"We do. We'll send you back to Dobby's body on Jan 1, 1986."

" **With** my current powers, knowledge, and psychology, plus Dobby's powers and knowledge, plus wandless magic and knowledge of healing", prompted Harry.

"What? You never mentioned that!"

"I did say 'plus some additional powers I never had'. You got distracted by something else and we did not complete that thought. Not my fault."

"OK OK, with your current powers, knowledge, and psychology, plus Dobby's powers and knowledge, plus wandless magic and healing", sighed the man.


	2. Chapter 2: Hobby Potter

Chapter 2: Hobby Potter

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-01 06:00 UTC, Malfoy Manor**

Harry woke up in a small, somewhat cramped, bed. If you could call a wooden plank with half of a thin, worn, tablecloth a "bed".

The first few minutes were very confusing. Knowing what was happening, Harry kept his consciousness quiet. He had no idea if the just-grown-to-adulthood Dobby was still in there or not, despite the deal he had made with the man. But after a few minutes of quiet, he realised he was alone in this mind. There was no Dobby here.

 _God bless you, my little friend; I know you're happy up there, and I'd like to think that, if you were even more different than you were, you'd like what I am going to be doing as you._ Having muttered this half-prayer, half-thanks quietly, Harry, or rather, _Hobby_ , left the room.

Walking out of the room he shared with the other Malfoy elf ( _Nolly_ , he suddenly thought, as that memory faded in), Hobby stopped just before the door leading to the rear of the kitchen. He paused for a few seconds to get his bearings, and tried to assimilate Dobby's knowledge. Unfortunately, there seemed to be more than Harry had expected - knowledge that nearly made him retch and empty out his stomach, even if it was, at present, empty anyway.

The death-eaters had not really stopped doing any of the things they did while Riddle was alive. They had merely paused for about 6 months, then started right back. The only nod to the changed circumstances was that they stopped trying to do anything to "blood traitors" and half-bloods; only muggle-born and muggles were picked, in both cases they made sure not a single other magical was anywhere nearby.

At the moment there were three prisoners in the dungeons. It was Dobby's job to feed them in the morning; the gruel and dry bread was to be prepared only once a week - no need to waste fresh food on animals anyway.

This was Hobby's first challenge, and in many ways it would define how he intended to go about his second chance and complete his mission: viz. to help the Harry of this timeline - currently a five year-old in a muggle home - lead a happy life free of all the crap that he had gone through in his time. He, Hobby, would play the whole wizarding world like puppets to make sure of that. And he would do it without Harry, Hermione, Sirius, or anyone else even knowing he existed. After all, he was just a house-elf!

The adult death-eaters, of course, deserved no mercy. But the children... well, to be honest, some of the children were not much better; at the tender age of 8 (that is, in a couple of years), Draco would be taught some simple hexes to fire at the prisoners, and he would take great pleasure in doing so. The whole question of "nature versus nurture" did not interest Harry very much, mainly because he was sure Dumbledore was using Harry himself as a test case for this. After all, by that logic he _should_ have been a mean bully. _In any case, the "nurture" had already happened, the "nature" had already set - just deal with it and don't waste time playing "what-if"_ , he thought to himself.

He thought about this while he collected the prisoners' breakfast. He threw the gruel and bread into the trash, and quickly made up a fresh batch of soup; warm, but thin - he knew all of them had been starved for weeks and giving them anything stronger would not be a good idea; they would have to be slowly stepped up to real food. While preparing their breakfast, he quickly made himself a large-ish sandwich - finding himself _very_ hungry - and polished it off. He then picked up a few slices of fresh bread, toasted them lightly (no butter, for the same reason!) put them all on a tray, and went down into the dungeons.

The two men were young and strong. Once. Now you could barely see any sign of that - they looked like skeletons, but worse, they looked like _old_ skeletons. Hollow, sunken cheeks, wrinkled skin hanging in loose flabs, bony elbows and knees poking through holes in clothes worn to tatters by dragging themselves away from their captors, in desperate but useless attempts to escape. A scant few weeks was all it had taken to bring them to this, and Hobby nearly wept to see them.

The third person was in much better shape; for some reason she had not been treated as badly, but she was just a child, and Hobby feared for her mental state. She had been here the longest - almost eight months now, if Hobby could piece together Dobby's memories correctly. She was kidnapped a few weeks before her Hogwarts letter would have arrived at her muggle home, surprising her parents with the news that a secret world existed just out of their ken. She had no idea if her parents were alive or dead, and had stopped crying to herself in her sleep. There were no more tears, just as there was no more hope of anything changing. In the beginning she used to try and keep track of how long she was in this hellish place, but now she had no clue. And no interest. Her eyes said it all, as she turned mechanically at the sound of the door opening.

And now Hobby really wept.

Hobby realised he would have to start making a list. Mentally he started it: put this girl back at home, find her parents, protect Hermione and her parents (how?), and finally protect Harry, especially during the incident on his 7th birthday.

That was the "good" list, and there was a lot more to be added ( _when exactly did Luna's mother die? Could he help Nevile's parents?_ ). He reminded himself that he had to do all this without this Harry even knowing about his existence in any way, shape, or form. He was even more worried about Hermione - she was smart enough to figure out something was wrong if she was even remotely involved with this, and yet he needed to make sure that this timeline's Harry and Hermione became friends as early as possible. _Without_ help from a troll, thank you very much!

 _Plenty of time for that; got more immediate stuff to take care of!_ , thought Hobby.

 _Like today_ , he said to himself. One of Malfoy's friends, Flint, was expected shortly before lunch for a spot of torturing the prisoners. An unpleasant, crude man, the days he visited were some of the worst for the poor prisoners. He tortured them as if he would be denied the pleasure soon and was trying to make the most of it while it lasted. If the prisoners had been at his home, he would have been at them all the time; none of the prisoners would have survived past a week. This was why he no longer did this himself, but came around to the Malfoys, and maybe others', to take his "pleasure". _Oh my God, am I praising the Malfoys, even if only with a back-handed compliment?_ , thought Hobby.

He started with the girl ( _how the heck did I have the foresight to ask for knowledge of healing? Anyway, thank God I did!_ ), gently levitating her a few inches while he transformed her so-called bed into something much closer to a real one. At least in softness and warmth, if not shape and height. Keeping her levitated, he replaced her dirty, torn, clothes with fresh, clean, hospital clothes, in a light shade of pink, with a pattern of small blue flowers all over.

He healed her surface wounds, bruises, abrasions, and so on in very short order. A quick scan of her innards showed that other than one bruised - but not fractured - rib, nothing else seemed to be wrong; all the vital organs were in good shape. All in all, he found himself once again surprised by the fact that she was being treated so well.

He would not realise till much later why this was so.

Hobby then turned to the two men, put their soup bowls and bread in front of them on a conjured table, and asked them to eat. "Slowly please; your stomach won't take it if you eat too fast". While they were eating, he gently and lovingly fed the girl her soup and bread, until her dull, dead expression had slowly faded to show some emotion - even if it was just confusion.

After he judged her to have had what she could safely eat at this time, Hobby gently asked her what her name was (Emily MacEgan, apparently), and where she lived (she gave an address in a small town called Corston, near Bath). Hobby then put her to sleep, picked her up and elf-apparated out of Malfoy Manor straight to St Mungo's. He dropped her off at the reception, with a note attached to her gown explaining that she was a muggle-born who had had a really bad accident and needed to get well before she went home. He would come back later for her.

He then jumped to the Flint residence. Marcus Flint was just about the age where he would be starting Hogwarts, and if ever there was a candidate for mindless death-eater wannabe, it was Marcus.

He quietly slipped into the house. The Flint elves knew Dobby of course, but he did not want to meet any of them. Quietly casting a revealing spell and keeping it active, he made his way undetected to Marcus's room.

The boy was still sleeping, legs flung all over, body half under and half over the comforter. Hobby transformed him into an exact likeness of the girl he had just put into St Mungo's, jumped to the Malfoy's dungeons with him, turned himself invisible, and woke him up.

The boy woke up with a raging temper. "Where the hell am I?" Hobby hit him with an imperio: "you are a ten year-old girl. You don't remember your name, if asked, and you will answer no other questions, except to point to those two dead men and scream your head off. Once those men have been taken away, you will eat when you are told to, otherwise you will just sit there."

Then he put the girl to sleep and turned himself visible again.

By this time the two men were openly staring at him, but were too scared to say anything. One of them finally got up the courage to speak up. "Who are you and what will you do to us? Why did you refer to us as dead men - are you going to kill us? And why did you take the girl out in good clothes, then bring her back in her old ones?"

Hobby was quick to reply. "No sirs, I am going to save you, but you may not want to watch what I will be doing before that, sirs; please look away. As for the girl, she is safe, sirs, and this one is a replica".

He looked about the dungeon for something suitable, like a log of wood or something. But then he saw a rat scurrying past, and he realised that was even better. He summoned two rats, then transformed them into exact replicas of the two men. He then ordered the two transfigured men to fight, clawing each other everywhere they could, and finally strangling each other to death.

One of the men, the same one who had spoken up, did not take his advice. He was now retching, though he did not have much in his stomach to actually disgorge. The sight was gruesome enough, but to see yourself as one of the participants? Uggh!

Hobby waved a hand over him to help with the nausea, and said "I _did_ warn you, sir!" Then he healed them of the worst of their injuries, especially those that muggle medicine may have trouble with, or take too long.

Hobby then took both of their hands, and jumped to the back room of a muggle post-office he knew of near Grimmauld Place that was closed at this time, but would open in a couple of hours. He told them that they could tell the cops whatever they wanted, as long as "magic" did not enter into it. They were not allowed to speak of magic to anyone, more for their own sake (who would believe them?) than for the statute of secrecy ( _which I care two hoots for_ ). They should say they were kidnapped and tortured but then the kidnappers, who were speaking in a language they did not understand, appeared to have some quarrel amongst themselves, and someone just dumped them here and left. They did not see anyone's faces and they think it was a case of mistaken identity.


	3. Chapter 3: Emily goes home

Chapter 3: Emily goes home

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-01 11:00 UTC, Malfoy Manor**

Marius Flint apparated to Malfoy Manor's front gates and walked in to the front door, where Lucius met him and led him into his office. They exchanged pleasantries for a while, then went down to the dungeon; Flint was raring to go, as usual. "It is high time we played with the girl, is it not, Lucius?", he asked, in a tone that wanted to convey disinterest, but failed utterly in doing so. In any case, Malfoy knew Flint too well to be taken in by a casual-sounding question.

"I've already told you, Marius, the girl is not to be harmed until she becomes ready to be a woman. I believe a few months more will suffice, according to Rothwell".

"She is uncommonly beautiful Lucius!"

"Yes, and that is precisely why I took her before someone else found her, even though she was at least a year too young for our play at the time."

 _Not just a monster, but a calculating, scheming, monster. As if I did not already know this_ , thought Hobby, who was silently following the two death-eaters.

A few minutes later, they turned the slightly large handle to the door leading to the dungeons, went down the stairs, and came upon a scene that really spoiled their mood.

The two men appeared to be dead, killed by each other evidently, since the girl was in the opposite cell and would not have been able to reach them. Their skin was bloody in many places, with muscle and bone showing through on the cheeks. The nails on the men's hands were at least partly torn off, indicating an attempt to scratch something. One man had both his eyes gouged out, while the other had one eye in the same state.

The girl was silent, facing the back wall and whimpering to herself. Lucius barked an order to her to turn around, but she did not.

"Hmm; something really bad has happened. I had trained her to obey me under all circumstances, and she has seen death several times here too. Something caused her conditioning to fail". He waved his wand around looking for any foreign magic, but all he could find was Dobby's magic.

" **Dobby!** ", he shouted. Hobby popped up a few feet in front of him and bowed low. "Master calls?", he said.

"You have used some magic here, what did you do?"

Hobby had not realised that wizards could detect elf magic the way they could their own. This was a shocker, and may cause several of his plans to change.

But there appeared to be a silver lining - it was only possible, it seemed, to find that elf magic was used, but not anything more specific. _Thank God! So, when I want to hide what was done, I must use elf magic, but when I want to hide who did it, I must use wizard magic - they will never associate that with me anyway. Damn; I need to keep things straight in my head and not use the wrong magic for the situation!_

"Master, the men were fidgety, and one of them accidentally spilled his gruel. I used magic to clean up the floor and put some of the gruel back for him. Dobby is sorry if that was not the right thing to do, but Master said they must be fed gruel every day."

 _Oh man, I used "I" in the first sentence; I hope he does not notice. I need to work on my "Dobby English" before I get caught; Lucius is not stupid!_ , thought Hobby.

"Hmm, alright. Next time something like this happens, make sure you report it to me. Now go."

"Yes master, Dobby wills do that", Hobby bowed deeply again, and popped away.

Lucius spent some more time examining the bodies, but really, there was nothing to see, so he turned to the girl.

Opening her door, he walked in and physically turned her around. Pointing his wand at her, he asked "do you remember this?"

She shook her head, "no".

Lucius was incensed. Without a moment's thought he fired off a crucio and held it for about ten seconds.

" _Now_ do you remember?"

The girl whimpered, but did not shake her head. _Close enough_ , Lucius thought. "What happened here?", he asked, pointing to the two men.

The girl took one look, and started screaming her head off, pointing at the men, then tearing at her own face with her own nails. Luckily her nails were cut short and she did not damage herself too much, but Lucius stopped her anyway. She was after all, as Marius said, "uncommonly beautiful", and it would be a shame to mar that beauty with scars before he could enjoy her as a young woman.

Marius was silent all this time, not saying a word. His knowledge of magic, of detecting it, determining the differences between various kinds of it, and so on was close to zero. The men he had little interest in - oh he enjoyed a bit of crucio as much as the next death-eater, but his entire attention, for the past few months of coming to Lucius's dungeon, was on the girl. Everything else paled.

Hobby, who had popped away but come back silently and invisibly, watched him quietly. _Hermione would wash my mouth out with soap if she heard the words I am thinking about this bastard! I wonder what would happen if I told him that was his son!_ , he grinned wickedly to himself.

Besides, at this point in time, the man does not even know his son is missing. Marcus was a late riser, and not seeing him at breakfast was common enough.

 **1986-01-02 03:30 UTC, St. Mungo's**

Hobby popped quietly, and invisibly, into St Mungo's reception. At that time of the night, it was unmanned. The injuries from various night-activities - bars, brothels, etc. - had tailed off, and the morning rush had not started. This is pretty much the quietest time of the day.

Hobby went behind the counter and opened the register, looking at the names. After a few seconds, he found it: "Emily MacEgan, ward 3, bed 12". Ward 3 was the common ward used for muggle-borns, some half-bloods (the poorer ones anyway), and such "riffraff", according to a quote from the director of St Mungo's at the time the ward was opened.

Quickly moving up to ward 3, he found bed 12 and looked at the person sleeping on it. Physically, she looked fine, but then that was true even yesterday morning. It was her mental state he was not sure of, and Malfoy had confirmed that she had witnessed several deaths while in that hell-hole. _And when Malfoy says 'death', he does not mean a simple, clean killing curse; they would have been bloody, cruel, and filled with the screaming of the poor victims. For a ten-, soon to be eleven year old-_ , Hobby shuddered.

Still, there was nothing to be done about that right this minute. He was ready to take her home - he had already scouted out her home in Corston the previous night, in order to be able to jump straight there with her. So he did just that - picked her up and apparated to her house.

After landing, he looked around to see where he had ended up. It was a simple, two-storied, house. A quick revealing spell showed two adults in one of the upstairs rooms, and nothing else. They had landed in the living room, so he gently put Emily on the sofa, conjured a blanket and a pillow, and let her continue to sleep. He then settled down on a chair for a quick nap; the Malfoys were never early risers, and neither he nor Nolly would be needed before 7am or so.

* * *

Shortly before 6am, the woman woke up and came downstairs, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and walking slowly. She glanced into the living room, possibly out of some sixth sense, and saw the two people there, upon which she screamed and promptly fainted.

Hobby of course managed to catch her before she actually fell, so he put her on the same sofa as her daughter and woke both of them up.

If he was hoping for a tearful reconciliation between mother and child, with the child's nightmares soothed away by her mother's loving embrace, he was in for a big disappointment. The young girl was crying silently, unable or unwilling to believe her ordeal was over. The woman, however, was another matter. She was screaming "who are you?" and "how did you get into my house?" alternately.

Clearly, this was no relief to the poor girl and, while she may not have been wishing to be back in the dungeon, and this clearly was her living room, it was not the comfort a ten year-old rescuee needed. So Hobby silenced the woman, stunned her, put Emily to sleep again, and went looking for the father. Hopefully he had not been obliviated, as the woman appeared to be.

The father appeared to be fine. More than fine, physically at least - because he took one look at Hobby and started swinging a cricket bat at him, forcing Hobby to duck quickly. Hobby then petrified him, freed his head, and asked him a simple question: "do you have a daughter?"

The hope mingled with fear on the man's face was a sight to see. He nodded yes. Hobby asked him the girl's name. "Emily", he replied. So Hobby took him downstairs, freed him from the petrifaction, turned himself invisible, and stepped out of the way.

Well, a father is never as good as a mother in these circumstances, but the girl was not going to be picky; once she realised that it _was_ her father, and _he_ was not screaming as if he did not recognise her, she clung to him like a leech, sobbing great huge sobs that gradually subsided, by which time it was clear she had fallen asleep.

The father would not let her go, but now found his wife asleep on the sofa. Seeing him try to wake her up, Dobby quietly released her from the stunner, then hit her with a calming charm. He then left the family alone, trusting the father to figure out how to deal with it. He would have to find some professional help to come and help the lady; her current state was quite untenable.

Hobby went back to Malfoy Manor, determined to come up with some solution within a day or so. He mentally reviewed his list again. The first item had changed to "help Emily's mother", it wasn't _done_ yet. So, in 24 hours he had completed- what? One item? But it was still there so maybe count it as 'half'?

This was going to be a long- he almost thought "day", but really, "life" fits better! Then again, what did he expect? Harry hadn't even known there would be victims to be rescued, but he wasn't expecting a totally smooth ride, was he?

Now, who could he ask for help?


	4. Chapter 4: What's a decade or so for us?

Chapter 4: What's a decade or so for us?

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-02 09:30 UTC, Malfoy Manor**

Having completed the morning chores, including breakfast for the young master, Hobby and Nolly were somewhat free. Hobby was surprised at first, since his impression was that elves in death-eater families were worked to the bone. But thinking deeper, he remembered that Dobby had had plenty of time to - literally - stalk him, Harry, both at Privet Drive and at Hogwarts.

But come to think about it, Malfoy had not been particularly nasty yet, though it was still early days and one should not extrapolate from just _one_ day of experience.

As he was mulling over this question, Hobby started thinking about all the dangers that Harry would face if he were stopped from his mission somehow. He thought it may be a good idea to write things down so that Harry would be somewhat forewarned, though how he would get the message to him, and how he would convince him, when Harry was not even six, was, as yet, an unsolved problem.

He conjured some parchment and started composing the narrative for the first two years in his mind- and stopped dead. He knew whom to contact, and what to take! But, sadly, not _how_ to contact them. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the idiom says.

So Hobby pulled the parchment he had just conjured, originally intended for Harry, and started writing. As he wrote, he tried to recall if Dobby had ever written anything, but there was nothing in Dobby's memory. He hoped this is how house-elves wrote; in fact he hoped house-elves wrote at all, otherwise this might not work!

 _To: The Great Mr Nicholas Flamel Sir, And His Great Mrs Perenelle Flamel Ma'am_

 _From: Dobby the house elf_

 _Dear Great Mr Nicholas Flamel Sir, And His Great Mrs Perenelle Flamel Ma'am,_

 _I's being Dobby the house-elf. I's being the need to tells you somethings very very importants._

 _I's be begging you Great Mr Nicholas Flamel Sir and His Great Mrs Perenelle Flamel Ma'am please be calling me as soon as you's be getting this so I can pop to you's location._

 _I's be swearing on my elf magic I's be not harming you or wanting to harms you._

 _Yours respectfully_

 _Dobby the house elf_

Having written this, and hoping that he had not overdone the bad English, he went up to the owlery, grabbed an owl, tied the letter to its leg and told it to deliver it to Nicholas Flamel.

Having done that, he then waited for Malfoy to leave the house on some business or other, then quietly snuck into the secret room where Malfoy kept all the dark artifacts, grabbed the diary, and went back to his "room" to await a wizard's call.

About twenty minutes later he "felt" someone call him (they must not have been very far), so he grabbed the diary and popped to where he was called.

 **1986-01-02 09:55 UTC, location unknown**

Big mistake! As soon as he landed, he was petrified and held up at a height of about six feet, by some magical grip on his throat.

"So, this is what you mean by not intending to harm us, bringing such a hideously dark object into our home? **Tell me why I should not kill you right now** ", thundered a wizard who could only be Nicholas Flamel.

In the few seconds that it took for these words to come out, Hobby observed the man. He looked to be about sixty, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a slim, almost thin, physique. And he was angry, really angry, so Hobby decided to suspend his examination of the man and try to respond.

Finding himself capable of speaking, Hobby replied in a carefully modulated, adult wizard voice, using a distinctly upper crust, House of Lords accent (as near as he could fake it anyway!), "Because, Mr Flamel, there are 6 more like that, and destroying them is the only way to prevent the self-styled Lord Voldemort from making a come back in-", here he paused for dramatic effect, pretending to count in his head, "-approximately 9 years and 5 months. Meanwhile, might I re-affirm my house-elf oath to not harm you, **and** also give you a wizards oath to the same effect?"

A person who has lived more than six hundred years would, normally, be considered pretty much immune to the emotion of "surprise"; he would have seen it all, and not just once but a dozen times over.

Instead, Nicholas Flamel... just fell over. Well, figuratively speaking, anyway. What he actually did was fall backward on his arse, although a nearby chair did rush in to place itself under him just in time. Whether Perenelle Flamel was nearby and did that, or Nicholas Flamel was still - at his age - having episodes of accidental magic, Hobby never did find out. _There's a third alternative - the house and its contents could be sentient! Better be extra careful and cut the sass, Hobby me boy!_ , thought Hobby to himself.

Anyway, after a few seconds, Nicholas Flamel stood up, then waved his right hand at Hobby in a scanning motion. Clearly, he did not like what he found, so he made an annoyed grunt and tried again, getting, naturally, the same results again.

"You have both wizard magic and house elf magic. Explain!", he ordered as he, not too gently, let Hobby down.

"Well, sir-"

"Wait, let me get Penny here too", said Nicholas. Hobby could not see what precisely he did, or how he sent the message, but in a minute or so, a motherly type woman came bustling in. "OK, start", said Nicholas.

"Well, sir, and ma'am, my name is - or actually _was_ \- Harry Potter. At present I go by 'Hobby', which is a portmanteau of 'Harry' and 'Dobby', the latter being the house-elf name my 'owners' know me by".

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"In my timeline, I was, but not in this timeline. I am not Harry Potter except in my own head; this timeline has its own Boy-Who-Lived, and I intend to make sure he has a better life than I ever had."

He paused to take a breath, and said "Might I have a glass of water before I continue, because mine is a long and sad tale".

Nicholas conjured a glass of water for him, allowed him to sit down, and they listened to the tale Hobby told them, in full detail. He included all seven years of his Hogwarts life, and Penny was visibly angry ( _at Nicholas_ , to Hobby's shock) when the stone episode was being narrated. ( _Hmm; I wonder what that was about_ , he thought).

Having completed his tale, Hobby asked the couple, "I hope you do not think I am intentionally meddling with time. As I said, I was pretty much ordered to do this, though the exact mode of fulfilling the order was mine to choose".

"Meddling with time? God no, and besides, what's a decade or so of time-turmoil for someone like us? No that's not an issue!"

Hobby was relieved; this was a potential sticking point in getting help. He would have hated it if they had turned out like Dumbledore, who he was sure would have picked his brain of all useful information, then obliviated him saying it was dangerous to meddle with time or some such rot, before calling Malfoy in and handing Hobby back to him!

"Sir, ma'am, I have lots and lots of work to do to fix all this, and I am determined to do it. I have the combined magic of an adult Harry and a powerful Dobby, but I still lack many skills which my friend Hermione always took care of. I do not know why, in my previous life, you chose to not do anything about Voldemort, but I respect your decision, and I am not asking you to be directly involved. All I ask is that you teach me some of the skills I need."

"We're not promising anything, but what do you need?"

"For now, I need to learn how to set wards and monitoring charms, and create portkeys. After I collect some of the other horcruxes, I need to learn to control fiendfyre. Or I can bring them all to you and you can destroy them yourself; that would go a long way, I am sure, to convincing you of my intentions, if you still needed convincing".

Then he took a deep breath, and he became visibly sad. "But first, I need you to heal someone. The muggle woman I told you about; she has no memory of even having a daughter, and Emily, the poor child, is not getting a chance to heal from her 8-month-long kidnapping and torture. Her father will try his best, I am sure, but she really needs _both_ parents". By now Hobby was crying shamelessly. "I... I will be doing a lot of nasty things to a lot of nasty people, but I had promised myself that no innocent would suffer if I could help it.

It will take time for me to _learn_ mind-healing, but this needs to be done today. Right now, if you're OK with it. In return, I'll do pretty much anything you wish me to do that does not jeopardise my overall mission and the reason this 'Father' person sent me back.

I do not know what the future holds for me, a weird mix of wizard and house-elf, but that was my choice. Foolish or wise I do not know, but I made that choice because I wanted the maximum advantage for myself in this highly uneven battle. All I know is that I am determined to see Harry happy, and married to Hermione, Hogwarts not succumb to the darkness, at least not in my lifetime, and innocents not suffer. Help me, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, you're my only hope!"

That was probably the longest speech Hobby had made so far. Actually, considering he had barely met or spoken to anyone, it was almost the only one.

There was a long pause, while Nicholas and Perenelle looked at each other. They seemed to be communicating without speaking, and suddenly, Hobby had an epiphany. Harry and Hermione used to communicate like this, or at least almost like this. What a blind buffoon he had been not to have realised that during his lifetime! Now he'd have to make sure Harry realised it and acted on it. Assuming that the change in timeline did not prevent them from being as close as they were in his past.

"First, call me Nick, and my wife is Penny. Next, when was the last time you ate?"

Harry sighed with immense relief; all of a sudden he felt his burden lighten tremendously. Now he **knew** he could do this. With these two behind him, he would definitely succeed.

"Thank you Nick, Penny. And I had breakfast this morning; it turns out I have more than even a normal wizard's appetite".

"Yes; I would have suspected that to be the case. Your magic needs that to sustain, plus now your house-elf magic is drawing on that. You asked to be a free elf, did you? Well, there is no such thing as a truly free elf. What most people don't know, or have forgotten, is that while a bond is needed for the elf to live, it does not have to be a master-slave bond. I am pretty sure, from the incidents you narrated, that your Dobby bonded with you as a friend, otherwise he would not have had the magic to live more than a few months. A year or two, in a magical castle, but not much more than that."

"As for you", Penny continued, "you are your own bonded elf by dint of assimilating a wizard core within the elf body. That's the closest to being 'free' that is possible for an elf, but it is truly unheard of. As such, you will be able to get away with a lot of things that no wizard will even dream of ascribing to you. This is a fantastic alibi - accusing you of doing something that the Malfoys don't want you to do would be inconceivable, and yet you can do them!"

Nick summed up, "you wondered if it was foolish or wise, and I won't say which it is, but it is certainly _lucky_ that you made that choice!"

"Now, hand me that diary, and I'll put it away for when we get one or two more and we'll do them together", saying which, he took the diary from Hobby and put it away in a silk bag and put that in a nearby drawer.

Then he changed gears, "Now let's see about Emily's father. Unfortunately, neither Penny nor I are good at mind healing. Body healing we can do, mind healing actually needs _low_ powered finesse, not high powered force. Look at it this way: you need a screwdriver, and we are hammers. That may be a bit overstated, but you get the idea, I'm sure".

Beckoning Hobby to follow him, he and Penny walked into the next room. Using the floo, he called "Healer Alice Ashwell, St. Mungo's".

After a few seconds another motherly woman, though a bit older looking than Penny, answered the floo. She and Nick spoke for some time, then Nick stepped back and the healer walked out of the floo.

"So, this is the young elf who wants to help heal a muggle? Very interesting, very interesting indeed!" She turned to Nick, "Mind-healing is easy. In return, I'd like to spend some time with this young elf and try and understand what drives him, what makes him tick".

"I am not Mr Flamel's elf, and I cannot reveal who my owner is. I am sorry, Healer Ashwell, but I am just an ordinary elf trying to help someone he came across accidentally".

"Curioser and curioser", said Alice Ashwell. "Even your language and diction are atypical for a house-elf!", said Alice Ashwell. (Hobby bit his tongue!) "Well, if you can't, then you can't. You do realise that I may be able to recognise the magical signature of the obliviation on the woman you will be taking me to?"

Hobby had not thought of that either. Damn this was hard; so many nuances to keep track of. He was quickly realising how much he had depended on Hermione, for she would have definitely known that going in, and would have made some provision against it, like a magical oath.

Still, he didn't really care if she knew it was Malfoy, since Malfoy was not his master. "Yes ma'am, I do. That does not bother my master, since it is not my master's magical signature you will find there. May I take you now?"

Alice Ashwell had a bemused expression on her face. Clearly, she wanted to spend a lot more time talking to this interesting creature. There was clearly _far_ more here than met the eye, and she decided to make a long-term project out of figuring out this elf's secrets.

For now, however, she held out her arm for Hobby to take. Hobby turned to thank Nick and Penny, promised to come back later in the day (without mentioning why, since he could not reveal to the healer that he wanted lessons in warding and monitoring charms!), and popped away with the healer.

After the healer had fixed up Emily's mother and left for St Mungo's, Hobby popped back to Malfoy Manor.


	5. Chapter 5: The sins of the father

Chapter 5: The sins of the father

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **Additional AN: As I map out the plot ahead, I sometimes need to go back and change something in an earlier chapter to fix the plot hole. So far, I've not had to do that to the chapters already uploaded, but there's no guarantee that'll remain so as I progress. Having said that, review comments noting plot holes are welcome and I thank you in advance.**

 **1986-01-02 10:00 UTC, Flint "Manor"**

Shortly after breakfast, Malfoy had had an urgent floo call from Flint. Apparently his son was missing, probably since some time the previous day. Malfoy decided to pay a visit to the Flints.

He didn't really care about the missing boy; Flint was, in Malfoy's mind anyway, just another minion, to be ordered around to do his bidding, and to be cannon-fodder if things ever came to such a pass. However, minions do not remain minions unless they feel the notional master will help them when they need it.

He had, accordingly, gone to Flint's place (though it was not a hovel, he would not dignify it by adding the word "Manor", despite Flint calling it so). He quickly determined that there was, again, only house-elf magic, and no other sign of any wizard magic, so the boy must have left on his own. Still, they called the Flint elf (they had only one), and questioned him, though nothing useful came of it.

Malfoy then attempted to convince Marius and his wife that their son may have gone out for something and forgotten to tell them, and he (Malfoy) was pretty sure the young lad would be home soon.

"What would you have done if Draco went missing for a whole day, Lucius", asked Flint.

"Well, Draco is a lot younger so that would be a concern. But if it happened, I would probably suspect the mudblood prisoner first; after all, my elves are loyal to me, and the wards would not allow anything else. The only hostile magic even remotely possible must, therefore, come from the mudblood prisoner. Accidental magic can do things that intentional magic cannot, even in someone as weak as a mudblood must be."

"Well that is indeed a thought. Could her accidental magic, because I wanted to play with her yesterday, have caused this?"

"At this distance? Impossible. Absurd, quite absurd, really. Even accidental magic has its limits, you know!"

Having long exhausted his stock of fake sympathy for a minion and the minion's family, Malfoy decided to use this topic as an excuse to leave the Flint house. "But if it will help you, let us go and interrogate the girl; maybe she will tell us something, or we find a magical trace of some kind". Yes, Flint would be with him too, but in your own home, you can get rid of visitors after some time and be free of these obligations.

And so they both came to Malfoy Manor, and went straight to the dungeons.

* * *

 **1986-01-02 11:30 UTC, Malfoy Manor**

The girl was slumped in the same position they had left her yesterday, or at least so it seemed. Malfoy ran a scan, but did not detect anything more than was seen yesterday. No elf magic, nor wizard magic of any kind, had been used lately.

Meanwhile, Flint's concern for his son was slowly turning into anger against the weakest target in range. When Malfoy's scan told him there was no sign of anything, his disappointment at another dead-end caused him to lose control, and he decided to check for himself the truth of what Malfoy said.

Unfortunately, Flint being Flint, he only knew one way. "Crucio", he cried, shocking the girl from a fitful sleep straight to screaming. "You _bitch_ , I know you did something - nothing else is remotely possible. What did you do?"

Flint did not know it, but he had blown the one chance he had of finding his son. The transfiguration was holding, but the imperio had worn off, and if he had but woken the "girl" up normally and asked, "she" would have told him the truth. But his temper (aided by his innate cruelty), was extracting a price from him.

Sadly, it was extracting a bigger price from his son. The poor "girl" was horrified, and was screaming herself raw, while trying to say something that her physical pain appeared to be preventing. After a minute or so, Flint stopped. The girl was retching from the pain, and desperately trying to say something but clearly unable to.

Flint didn't care. He seemed to be in the grip of some madness, and lifted his wand again. " **Mudblood bitch** ", he roared. "Redu-"

" **Expelliarmus** ", Malfoy was furious. " **You forget your place, Flint!** I have already told you I do not want the girl harmed in any way, yet I was willing to let you crucio her. I will not allow you to physically deform her!" Clearly, Malfoy had his priorities straight, the sick bastard.

" **Dobby** ", called Malfoy. Hobby popped in and did his bowing and answering act. While doing that, he glanced sideways at the girl, and realised that, although the transfiguration was permanent (until cancelled anyway), the imperio appeared to have worn off. It was only the crucio that was preventing her from talking.

This was a very delicate situation. If Marcus recovered his throat enough to speak, he would reveal himself as Flint's son, and Hobby didn't want to lose this prisoner yet - they had not yet learned their lesson!

He quickly silenced the girl with elf-magic, while at the same time cleaning the girl's vomit from the floor. Malfoy would detect elf-magic, but could clearly see one instance of it and would not think there were two spells used.

"Dobby, has she given any trouble since yesterday?", asked Malfoy.

"She be giving no troubles master! She be sleeping or crying. She also be eating but very little, master".

Flint clearly wanted to rant some more, but kept his mouth shut. In the back of his mind he knew it was utterly impossible for this girl to have caused his son's disappearance in any way, but his temper was well-known.

Hobby stayed back until the two death-eaters had left, then reapplied the imperius to Marcus and left. He was not going to worry too much about this particular boy. He would not have even a _first_ chance to do what he had done in his previous life.

* * *

 **1986-01-02 14:00 UTC, location unknown**

Hobby jumped to Nick and Penny's house, and spent the next couple of hours learning a few important, "building-block" spells for both warding and monitoring, as well as a simple, one-way portkey creation spell.

Building-block spells were easy and fast to learn, and could be layered together with similar spells to make something more complex. The downside was that it took more time to create this structure than it would take if you knew a specific spell, but for warding and monitoring, Hobby could afford the time required; he did not anticipate needing to do them in a hurry.

At the end of the session, Nick told him to feel free to come back if he needed more help. Hobby was very grateful. He thanked the couple profusely, but he had a very important question to ask them.

"May I also come back once in a while even if I don't need anything? I didn't realise how lonely I would be when I chose to come back like this. I am pretty sure you two will be the only people in the world who will ever know who I am and what my history is; I do not intend even Harry, Hermione, and Sirius to know that. They will live their lives without knowing I was behind the scenes, without knowing I was Harry in my previous life. This will also protect them if my identity ever comes out (God forbid!), because they will be able to answer completely truthfully that they had no clue.

And I don't think this will change, ever. Well, unless Hermione manages to free _all_ the elves and make the ministry accept them as equal I suppose", he smiled sadly.

Penny walked up to him, leaned down, and gave him a hug, nearly causing Hobby to start crying again. She said, "I was going to ask you to do that anyway Hobby. You said you do not know what the future holds for you? Well, once you have completed your mission, you are welcome to come and live with us. We could certainly use the company. The Chinese have a curse that is worded to sound like a blessing: _may you live in interesting times_. You are a unique individual who appears to have had more than his share of interesting times, and you're welcome to settle down with us for a more boring life if you wish!"

Hobby beamed at them tearfully - this was far, far, more than he had expected; he was being treated like a member of their family, a long-lost son perhaps! He thanked them again, and popped away. Suddenly, his second life was turning out much better than he had _dared_ to hope. What a stroke of luck it was, thinking of these two to help him!

* * *

 **1986-01-09 06:00 UTC, Gringotts, London**

Flint was desperate. It had now been eight days since his son had disappeared. Eight days during which the aurors were contacted, and failed to find him, warding and magical signature tracing specialists had been called in, and also failed, and even the underage magic detection net had been tuned to find one specific signature, and had _also_ failed.

His last hope, and how he hated the thought, was to ask the goblins for help. They would definitely know if he was alive or dead, because of their role in inheritance management for the wizarding world. And so he found himself here today, at least superficially trying to be polite.

"I would like to discuss a matter of personal importance to me", he said to the goblin behind the counter, once he reached the head of the queue.

"What is this matter?", sneered the goblin.

"My son is missing. Has been missing for eight days, and I am not even sure if he is alive or dead."

The goblin gestured to another, and signed to Flint to follow him. Goblins were not known for being chatty anyway, and the usual meaningless pleasantries that humans engaged in, were considered not just meaningless but also a huge waste of time and test of patience.

Flint walked behind the goblin, following him into a small meeting room. He was then left there, presumably for someone else.

Sure enough, a short while later, another goblin, a bit older, a bit wealthier (or at least with a lot more "gleam" in his clothes) walked in and sat down. He pulled out and opened a register, and spent some seconds reading it.

"What do you want to know?", he asked.

"My son has been missing for eight days, and I am not even sure if he is alive or dead", said Flint in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

"Unless the boy is actually dead and we have a will to execute, we have no interest in the matter."

"He does not have a will. Is there no way of finding out if he is alive or dead, well or in pain, or where he is?"

"We can tell you if he is alive or dead. We can also give you a life-stone that will grow dark if he is dead, so you will know immediately, but it will cost you. It can be worn as a ring so you have ready access to it at every moment. The other questions are beyond our ken".

"I will pay. How much?"

The goblin named some figure and Flint agreed. After deducting the amount from Flint's account, he opened the register again and peered at it more closely. He then said, "your boy is alive. That much we are sure of. However, he appears to be in great pain; some enemy of yours must have gotten hold of him. It would be wise of you to check all your enemies' strongholds for such prisoners. Meanwhile, here is the ring. As you can see, the stone is glowing; if it goes dark, the boy is dead."

Then, with a completely straight face, he added, "And do not forget that some 'friends' might not actually be. I understand your comrades were always competing with each other to be 'top', whether it was at school or in your meetings".

It seemed the goblins were not above sowing a bit of discord among wizards, because there really was no way of detecting pain in any way. And the crack about 'friends' was just that - a lucky shot that, knowing the death-eaters, did indeed have a slight ring of truth!

Meanwhile, Hobby had placed a monitoring charm on Flint's person, to warn him of his movements. Having detected that Flint was now in Gringotts, he waited till Flint left Gringotts, popped to him invisibly, then forcibly popped him to a wooded area somewhere near Hogwarts, though Flint was not to know that.

He made sure he was invisible, then spoke in an adult, wizard voice, "Do you realise that some 'pure blood' wizards and witches - the more pretty and handsome ones - consider your son, with his teeth the way they are, to be below their own children in purity?"

"WHAT? That's outrageous; we have been pure-blooded for more than 15 generations!"

"Nevertheless, that is what they believe. After all, once you go down the path of 'pure', why stop at blood? Bad teeth might indicate some other problem just as well as bad blood, and it is a lot more visible too!" Hobby was trying very very hard not to laugh at this completely impromptu crap he was spouting. _I wish I could tell Hermione about this incident; she'd get a kick out of it! In all our years in the wizarding world, we never saw a single sign of there being someone equivalent to a dentist!_

"Who are you and why are you telling me this?"

"My name is not relevant, but you may call me the Phantom. Just know that I too have friends with bad teeth, and I rail at this injustice". Here, Hobby had to pause and stifle laughter. For some reason he thought of Luna's father's ideas about the Rotfang Conspiracy!

"Now, you will not be able to find out where your son is, but if you tell me the names of all your so-called friends who have dungeons and keep them stocked with prisoners, I will soon fish him out for you".

"What guarantee do I have that you will do that?"

"None. You are right. I am sorry to have troubled you. I am sure you can apparate home. Goodbye", said Hobby.

" **WAIT!** I'll tell you their names. How do I find you again?"

"You never find the Phantom, he finds you. The names please..."

"Avery, Macnair, Nott, Rowle, and Yaxley".

 _I wonder why Flint did not name Malfoy. Oh well, all to the good_. "Thank you. If your son is with one of them, I will find him", and he disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6: That saving people thing

Chapter 6: That "saving people thing"

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-09 09:30 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

Once again having completed the morning's labours, Hobby found himself able to get away for an hour or two, before Malfoy would come back for lunch. So he went to see Nick and Penny, and arranged for them to meet him in one of their open fields for the next phase of his operation.

He then jumped to Grimmauld place, wondering what state it was in. Old Walburga had died less than a year ago, so it shouldn't be too bad - this was almost nine years before Sirius went to it in his past life, so it had to be in better condition.

He transformed himself into the likeness of an adult Harry Potter, and walked up to the door of #12. It was not under the Fidelius, and perhaps the other protections did not apply to him, but he was able to approach as well as knock on the door.

Kreacher opened the door, looking suspiciously at him. Hobby was dressed in proper pureblood fashion, and had managed to plaster a sneer on his face that would have made Malfoy proud.

Kreacher was in reasonable shape, he noted, although he was already crazy anyway. Hobby knew what buttons to push, though. He looked at Kreacher, and said "I am Harry Potter, and I have come to help you fulfill Master Regulus' last instructions to you".

That stopped Kreacher cold, and Hobby took advantage of his shock to walk in. He stood in the entry way, and yelled "Accio Slytherin's Locket!"

With a rushing sound, the locket appeared and flew into his hands. He then beckoned to Kreacher to come closer. He said, "A friend of mine shall destroy this with fiendfyre, and you shall observe. I want you to see with your own eyes that Master Regulus' last wish was properly carried out. Will you come with me?"

"Yes Master Harry", said Kreacher. None of his attitude was visible; Hobby had effectively cut it off with his first few words.

Hobby and Kreacher popped, with the locket, to an open field. Nick was waiting there. Unbeknownst to Hobby, Penny was also waiting, under a powerful disillusionment spell, a few dozen feet away from the center of the field. Just in case.

Hobby (as Harry), took the locket from Kreacher, and hissed "Open" to it in parseltongue. He had already told Nick what to expect, that it would play on the fears of whoever was standing before it. He stepped away immediately after opening it, so Nick was in front.

Nick took his wand out slowly and with great deliberation, and aimed at the Horcrux. He was almost making a production out of it, taking more than enough time for the horcrux to latch on to his fears and do its thing.

But nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Either the horcrux was a fake (it wasn't, Harry was sure of it), or Nick's occlumency was phenomenal!

After that somewhat anti-climactic opening, Nick - again, calmly and deliberately - hit the horcrux with the fiendfyre spell and they all watched it burn to ashes. Once that was done, he pulled a silk bag out of his pocket, fished the diary from within, put it on the rock next to the burnt locket, and finished it off the same way.

"Thank you Harry; let me know when you get the next batch and we will do this again. Goodbye, young Harry, and goodbye to you too, young Kreacher. Harry and I thank you for your help in ridding the world of this evil". With that, Nick bowed to Kreacher, and apparated away.

Hobby had seen Nick fall on his arse when he first met him, now he had the pleasure of seeing Kreacher fall over in shock.

"Master Harry, that was- that was- that was Nicholas Flamel?" Evidently he was well known even to house-elves.

"Yes Kreacher, that was Nick". He couldn't figure out where Kreacher was coming from on this, or where this conversation was going. _I thought Kreacher hated all 'light' wizards_ , he thought.

"Let's go back to Grimmauld, Kreacher; we need to talk".

"Yes Master Harry".

* * *

Hobby, as Harry, sat on one of the armchairs in the parlour. Memories of times spent here, and sadness about Sirius filled him, but quickly vanished on realising he was still alive and only needed to be got out of Azkaban.

"Kreacher, how did you recognise me as your master?"

"Master Harry, Kreacher does not know. Kreacher only knew you were his master, and the master of this house".

Hobby was not sure what to tell Kreacher about himself, but decided for now to not reveal anything. There was no telling how the unstable elf would take to being owned by another elf; after all, if the concept was unknown and unheard of to Nick and Penny, for someone like Kreacher the cognitive dissonance may even kill him!

"Kreacher, I am glad to see that the house is clean, and you are taking care of it properly as a good elf should. Please also make sure that Madam Black's portrait is kept in good shape, but silenced. Her views on the pureblood issue are what ended up killing Master Regulus, and for that I will never forgive her. Do you understand, Kreacher?"

Kreacher looked shocked and angry at first, but as soon as Hobby said the magic words ("Master Regulus") his expression changed. "Mistress Walburga caused the death of Master Regulus? Kreacher is not understanding, master Harry".

So Hobby gave Kreacher a condensed version of the story. "She wanted him to join Lord Voldemort, thinking he would do good to wizarding society. But Voldemort killed many people - purebloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns alike. One day he gave Master Regulus a mission, but by then Master Regulus had figured out that Voldemort and his ideas were really bad for the wizarding world, and decided to secretly oppose him. You know what happened after that, probably even better than I do".

"Kreacher did not know this master Harry. But Mistress Walburga is..."

"You can still take care of the portrait, Kreacher, just don't let her speak, and make sure you do not listen to her. I do not want to lose you the way we lost Master Regulus".

"Master Harry is too kind to compare Kreacher with Master Regulus", muttered Kreacher.

"Kreacher, I will need you to make six to eight bedrooms ready for visitors. These visitors will be patients who have been hurt by bad wizards who follow Voldemort. Some of them are muggles, some are muggle-born witches, in many cases they may be very young girls, children too young to understand why they are being punished. You will need to take care of them while I am not available. Are you willing to do that?"

Kreacher looked very uncomfortable at the thought of **muggles** in the house of Black. But what he had seen and heard today, and especially receiving a bow in thanks from Nicholas Flamel himself, seemed to have turned him around quite a bit.

"Yes master Harry, Kreacher will take care of them".

And that was that.

* * *

 **1986-01-10 03:00 UTC, Yaxley and other dungeons**

This time, Hobby did not waste time kidnapping someone else, transforming them into the prisoners he had rescued, imperiusing them, etc.

He popped into Yaxley's kitchen, and quietly called the Yaxley elves, Tosky and Lassy, to him. As soon as both were in front of him, he petrified them using wizard magic. Then he took the prisoners from the dungeons and put them in Grimmauld's bedrooms. Then he went back to the house, cancelled the elves' petrifaction, wiped their minds, and left them with the notion that the prisoners had been rescued by someone who called himself "the Phantom".

( _What a name!_ , he thought. _Oh well that is what happens when you try to come up with a name while at the same time trying to hold your laughter in!_ )

He did the same thing in all the other dungeons. In addition, in the Notts' house, he petrified Theo Nott, and left a note stuck to his forehead which said "See how easy it is to do to yours, what you do to others, if I wished? Behave yourself, and young Theo will not be harmed!"

* * *

 **1986-01-11 03:00 UTC, various locations**

Hobby popped into Hermione's backyard quietly. It seems most of his best work was being done at 3am, he mused to himself. Well, no matter - a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, as the saying goes. Even if he was in an elf's body.

He spent a good fifty minutes layering a series of wards of increasing complexity over the house. He snuck into Hermione's bedroom and put a monitoring spell on her as well, just in case. The wards would ensure that benign visits by wizarding folk would not be hindered, but hostiles would be neutralised with extreme prejudice - they would land up in Grimmauld's dungeons. The wards would tell him if that happened, and he would then have to go to Grimmauld to deal with the would-be attackers.

By 4am, he had finished his work here, so he popped to Corston and warded the MacEgan's house the same way, and similarly added a monitoring spell on Emily. This girl was special, and he intended to make pretty damn sure none of the death-eaters ever got anywhere near her again.

That left only one place to be warded, but that was dangerous. It risked bringing him to the attention of Dumbledore, and he was not sure if this was the time. He knew he could get to the Dursleys any time he wanted, since Dobby was able to, after all, but warding the place? _I need to think about this. Ideally, I'd like to get Harry out of there, but where would he go? The only way out is to get Sirius out first._

So he bent his mind to that problem.


	7. Chapter 7: Ding Dong!

Chapter 7: Ding-Dong!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-13 03:00 UTC, Azkaban prison**

 _3am again! I need to get a life_ , thought Hobby, as he popped into Azkaban. The blind spot that wizards had in their view of house-elves was nowhere as evident as here - there was absolutely nothing stopping him from popping in. He wondered if popping out would be as easy, but suspected it would be so only if he was alone. Otherwise it would be trivial for anyone who owned a house-elf to give it standing instructions to get him out if he was ever thrown in.

 _Unless... unless even that thought had not occurred to them!_ His head hurt thinking _that_ could be the answer to his current task, but well, he would soon find out.

He turned himself invisible and looked at a map of the prison. He had no clue where Bellatrix was, but he figured a little snooping would find him the bitch who killed Sirius in a past life.

It took him more than an hour of sneaking around, first trying random rooms, then going about it more methodically, before he found her. In the process, he now knew where most of the other prisoners were too, especially Sirius. But not now; time enough for that later, right now he needed Bellatrix to get him something from Gringotts.

He steeled himself for all kinds of backlash from Azkaban's wards, reminded himself that Nick and Penny _did_ know enough to be a good backup plan if he ended up dead right now, took a deep breath, and tried to pop Bellatrix out...

...and it worked! By Toutatis, these wizards are crazy, he thought! How the hell do they ignore house-elves so completely, that even the self-preservation aspect of getting out of Azkaban does not make them think "oh hey maybe my elf can pop me out?"

He really, really missed Hermione now. Ever since the potion puzzle, where she had noted that wizards lack logic and common sense, they had shared a secret laugh over many subsequent examples of this, but this, _this_ particular one, took the cake!

Taking care not to show his amusement on his face, he stood humbly by while Bellatrix woke up. She was instantly awake - five years in Azkaban had not had an effect on her ( _was she an animagus too, like Sirius?_ ) - and turned to him.

"Who are you?"

"I am Dobby, Mistress Bellatrix. I was Mistress Narcissa's elf". She looked at him sharply, and Hobby realised he had again used "I". Luckily, she missed it because of the implications of "was".

"You _were_? What does that mean?"

"Dobby is sorry Mistress, but Dobby is being given to you now. Master and Mistress being killed by Dumbledore's people, and Draco is being having his magic stripped and sent away to muggle orphanage. But master being giving a letter to be giving to you in case bad things happen, Mistress Bellatrix", and he proffered a letter that he dug out from somewhere deep inside his filthy clothes.

Of course, he had forged Lucius's handwriting. In it he had written that a very important artifact that the Dark Lord had given to him to aid in his resurrection had been destroyed. Unfortunately, the instructions for how to use it, and indeed the information about what it even _was_ , had only come to him a day prior, and the instructions included the backup plan. In brief, she was to go to Gringotts, get the cup that the Dark Lord had entrusted to her, and then use the letter as a portkey to a site where the materials for a ritual to resurrect the Dark Lord were kept ready.

"And I am to believe this... fiction?"

Hobby was shocked, but he did not know how an elf was supposed to react to this, so he stayed calm. "Mistress Bellatrix, Dobby was being given the letter to being gives to you. Dobby bes not reading the letter Mistress Bellatrix".

"Who gave this to you?"

"My master, then hes be freeing Dobby, then hes be telling Dobby Dobby bes Mistress Bellatrix's elf now, Mistress Bellatrix".

Bellatrix was not convinced. She was sure it was a fake, and started muttering to herself. Apparently the root cause of her suspicions was that, in the letter, Malfoy referred to his wife as Narcissa. She mumbled to herself that he had _never_ , _ever_ , referred to her as anything but Cissy, so this was very surprising.

This was unexpected, and he realised it was lucky she was crazy enough to mumble to herself, otherwise he would never have known. But once again, the blind spot came in useful. Even in her wildest imagination, she could not have dreamt that the _elf_ was anything but what he appeared to be.

So Hobby quietly obliviated and stupefied her, rewrote the letter, set it up as a portkey again, and then woke her up. He had to repeat most of what happened already, but soon they were on their way to Gringotts.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 03:30 UTC, Gringotts, London**

The letter had also warned her not to answer any questions from anyone, and to use her blood in lieu of her (missing) key to get into her vault, and that is what she did.

Gringotts was open; apparently it doesn't really close, as such. Everything went smoothly; goblins don't give a damn whose elf is going with whom or even who was supposed to be in Azkaban. Her blood checked out, and that was all that mattered.

Once they were out of Gringotts, she grabbed the letter and, without waiting for Hobby, activated the portkey. She landed at the place where - though she did not know it - the last two horcruxes were destroyed.

Dobby was close behind her, nerves stretched taut for the task ahead. Nick would not be here today; fiendfyre in an open area was not really a problem for Harry, having watched it done twice. But after the unexpected problem with the letter, he was wondering if he should have played safe and asked for backup. Mainly, his mistake was assuming that she would be in bad shape from four years in Azkaban; everything else followed from that.

He popped in, invisible, and turned to her, sending a silent house-elf stunner at her.

Unfortunately, things didn't go quite so smoothly here. What Hobby did not realise was that, along with the cup, Bellatrix had picked up a wand from her vault. Plus, the bitch had a sixth sense of some kind, and probably a seventh and an eighth. She exploded into action, whipped out the wand she had just picked up, and started firing at Hobby. Even though she could not see him.

Hobby was amazed. Truly, this woman was something - God alone knew what kind of training she had had, maybe even duelled Riddle himself for practice!

 _Had she really been in Azkaban for four years? Must be her lack of any happy thoughts that prevented even the dementors from affecting her; in fact she must have affected them!_

But Hobby had no time to reflect on this; he was on the defensive and had an enormous amount of trouble keeping himself safe, leave alone return fire. The only thing saving him was house-elf apparation, but even that was barely working.

Finally, in desperation, he tried an extremely unorthodox stunt. He apparated directly behind and slightly to the right, just high enough to have his hands at the level of her head. He quickly grabbed the back of her head with his left hand hand and her chin with his right, and twisted sharply.

And thus was the wickedest witch, as beautiful as Beauty in her day, and as beastly as any beast ever was, felled by a simple muggle technique.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 07:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office**

Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge (1), was a man whom everyone knew. A politician to the core, you could only like him if you played politics yourself; thus no ordinary citizen could ever like him. And although it may sound surprising, a large part of the middle and lower echelons of the ministry, plus a good two-thirds of the auror force, were really just ordinary people, with ordinary wishes and hopes.

As such, when the minister walked into his office bright and early, and immediately started screaming his head off, about three-quarters of the people who heard him were hoping he had been hurt in some permanent way. Even if they themselves would not find it in themselves to harm him, the idea of him being harmed by something else was strangely uplifting, as though it were an affirmation that there _is_ a God! Such is a politician's lot in life!

In any case, Shacklebolt and Robards rushed into the minister's office. And it was only because "real men don't scream" that neither of them did. If Dawlish had been on duty, there would have been a duet of screams there (because the minister was still at it, loud and clear!)

Once things had settled down, someone called Madam Bones in. She took one look at the body sprawled on the minister's desk, and noticed what the others had failed to: on her forehead were two words, etched in blood, literally cut into her skin: DING DONG.

Curiously, this interested them much more than the bare fact of a current inmate of Azkaban lying dead on the minister's desk. There was no magical residue to indicate how she had died, except some healing magic on her neck.

Sadly, magic could not tell that this healing was done a few seconds _after_ she died! Even more sadly, this forensic limitation was not even _known_ to the wizarding police. It is debatable if even the word "forensic" was known, of course, so this is probably a moot point.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 07:30 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office**

Word got around very quickly, and pretty soon most of the magical world knew Bellatrix Lestrange had been found dead in the ministry. The details, as is usual in such cases, varied from mild truth to wild imagination. And while, in the muggle world, the next day's newspaper would be expected to throw a balanced, objective, light on the situation, the magical world was not so lucky.

One of the first to know, of course, was Minister Fudge's trusted friend and advisor, Lucius Malfoy. He had rushed in, barely having finished his coffee, breakfast untouched, to be with his friend in his hour of need, and to see how this could be twisted to his benefit. He had no spectacular love for his sister-in-law; indeed their last conversation was somewhat strained, with her accusing him of selling out their lord, and him telling her he was being Slytherin, and she was acting like a Gryffindor - charging right in, and shouting her convictions from the rooftops when arrested.

To a Slytherin, of course, being accused of acting like a Gryffindor was the ultimate insult, and were it not for the fact that she was an under-trial with magic suppressors on all 4 limbs and no wand, Lucius Malfoy may well have ceased to be a factor in our story long ago!

As it was, however, the blond death-eater was egging the minister into a royal snit. Luckily, he had maintained all through that all of the others in Azkaban were under the imperious, but that, in addition, they had all been subjected to loyalty potions by the Dark Lord, which was preventing them from speaking their mind even after the imperius had been cancelled by the death of the caster.

He was now busy reminding the Minister of that fact, and claiming that someone loyal to the Dark Lord still lived, and was punishing the traitors, which proved what he had been saying all along, that the people in prison were not _willing_ death-eaters.

This was, of course, not going to fly, as far as the bulk of the wizarding populace was concerned. But you don't become Minister of Magic listening to the _populace_ , you did it by listening to the Malfoys of the world. And you could not deny that the sound made by the bag being passed to him for his favourite charity, was almost musical.

(Malfoy's reasoning was circular logic, of course, but since money makes the world go _round_ , circular logic is the only type that fits.)

And so, the Daily Prophet had a special edition out in about an hour, with the following headlines: **Bellatrix Lestrange killed by You-Know-Why sympathisers** (an article of about four column-inches, with some lurid detail about the injuries all over her body, and signs of prolonged torture by cruciatus), and **Lord Malfoy claims all marked prisoners are innocent; Minister considering pardoning** (this one over 22 column inches, with lots of information about the imperius, the loyalty potion, and so on).

* * *

 **Notes**

Yes I know Bagnold was still the minister in 1986, but Fudge fits my story better so I made him minister.


	8. Chapter 8: Treasure Hunt!

Chapter 8: Treasure Hunt!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-13 09:30 UTC, location unknown**

Hobby was, of course, _completely_ unaware of the hell that had just been raised by his idea of a joke. He had, as was his wont, popped into the Flamel's house - a house which was fast coming to mean "home" for him - and said hello to Nick and Penny.

Nick tossed a newspaper at him.

Hobby was glad he was sitting down! The idea that anyone who killed Bellatrix could be a Voldemort supporter - he shuddered to think what Lady Longbottom must be feeling right now. In fact, it might not be a bad idea to cook up some story by which someone helped the wicked witch escape, in order to harm the Longbottoms, and that she - Lady Longbottom - had killed her. That would put the kibosh on this bullshit.

But he would not be able to do that without blowing his cover with Lady Longbottom, and he was not that desperate yet.

The next idea that struck him was to point out the significance of what was written on her face, and that only a muggle-born could know what it meant. But as before, the question was how to get this out without revealing himself. Plus, knowing what he knew of the Ministry and Malfoy, they would immediately jump on this to do something drastic like round up _all_ muggle-borns and half-bloods. No no no, no innocents should suffer. He had already taken far too much of a risk by using a phrase that only muggle-raised could understand, but no more. He would need to be careful about that too, from now on.

In any case, Hobby, shocked by this development, realised he had to step up his plans, and may have to discard some of the finer, subtler aspects and take more direct action.

Meanwhile, confusion reigned supreme. The minister was squawking his (paid) lines, the Daily Prophet was parroting his story, the Quibbler had something sensible to say (apparently Luna's mother _had_ seen the Wizard of Oz movie!) but no one took it seriously anyway.

The light side was angry and upset. They risked seeing a resurgence of the days before Halloween 1981, even if Voldemort was supposedly dead, with his death-eaters emboldened by their release. Dumbledore was the only exception, in that he did not seem to react much one way or the other, except to smile enigmatically and imply that he would bring them all to the light, or some such rot. (Minerva, Poppy, and Filius looked at each other worriedly at that, but decided to let it go. For now.)

The ordinary people, many of whom remembered both the atrocities committed by these same people, as well as the trials that sent them to Azkaban, were extremely worried. It may have helped if they were _angry_ instead of being merely _worried_ , but have you ever seen a bunch of angry sheep? Me neither!

* * *

 **1986-01-13 14:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office**

By lunch time, support had rallied around Malfoy's scheme. The death-eaters who had pleaded "imperius" were honor-bound to come to the aid of their comrades (it would look very suspicious if they did not, plus there was the fear of what Malfoy would do to them later!), and were petitioning the Minister for an early release. Like, _today_. In fact, more like, _right now_.

What they were afraid of, with some justification, was that Bones, Weasley, and Diggory would drum up support for either defeating the measure in the Wizengamot, or make a PR play out of it. While they themselves did not care what the public thought, the minister could be swayed if the mood against his administration got too ugly. After all, while he did want the bribes they gave him, his eligibility to _receive_ the bribes was very much dependent on his continuing in office.

And so, they decided that immediate action, thus presenting the world at large with a _fait accompli_ , was what was called for. As such, ministerial orders went out saying that all death-eaters were to be released forthwith. They didn't even bother with individual names, which was unprecedented.

Even more unprecedented, the minister himself, along with his top advisors, went to Azkaban prison to see the orders carried out. Of course this was a bit of a logistical nightmare, so it took a bit of time. But finally, at long last, they were en route to the prison.

Malfoy was beside himself with glee. _He_ had engineered this, out of whole cloth. _He_ would be getting all of his master's faithful servants out of prison. He was, in any case, de facto second in command, but the only real competition for that post was now dead, and in any case this would cement his position even before the dark lord came back.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 15:00 UTC, Malfoy Manor and other places**

Harry's habit of jumping in with both feet had been nicely assimilated into Hobby. As such, after only a few minutes of anger, and a few more of concern, he realised that everyone who is anyone was at the Ministry.

So he quietly did something he was tempted to do a few days ago.

Pop to the kitchen of Yaxley manor, call his elven comrades. Stupify and obliviate them, hide them somewhere. Do the same to any women and children in the house. Fiendfyre the house. Bring the women and kids back and leave them on the grounds.

Just to make things interesting, mix them up randomly. For the women, cancel the stupify, and replace it with a mild sleeping charm so they would wake up in about an hour.

The only exception was Marcus, still transformed into Emily, who was stunned and placed in the _Flint_ 's dungeon.

Thus it was that Narcissa Malfoy found herself, around an hour later, on the Rowle's front lawns, wondering how she got there, and where Draco was. (Draco, the dear boy, found himself in Macnair's backyard. Curiously enough, right next to a huge axe that scared the shit out of him!).

* * *

 **1986-01-13 18:00 UTC, former Malfoy Manor**

By the time the women and elves all woke up, took stock of where they were, made their way to their respective homes, realised there weren't any, apparated to one or other of their friends', and finally - after a lot of confusion - sorted themselves out, and then all trooped to the ministry, it was almost 6pm, and the ministerial party had returned (triumphantly, one might say!) with the released prisoners. A press conference proclaiming the victory of justice or some such rubbish had just completed. Never let it be said that bureaucracy is slow!

It was into this milieu - press contingent and all - that Narcissa, Draco, and the other wives (and kids, in some cases), and _all_ of the elves of the affected families, trooped in.

It soon became clear that six manors had been burnt down (Malfoy, Avery, Macnair, Nott, Rowle, and Yaxley). This dampened the victory celebrations quite a bit. Immediately, Minister Fudge decided to visit his friend's house. Narcissa had, of course just come from there, and said there was absolutely nothing that could be salvaged, but PR was PR.

When the ministerial party, comprising the minister himself, most of the department heads (Weasley especially was interested in seeing if any dark artifacts had surfaced, so he tagged along), Madam Bones, assorted aurors, accompanied by the death-eaters and their families, (and let's not forget the press), arrived at Malfoy Manor, they found a truly incredible sight.

The ashes had vanished. The ground was pure black, with the charred material appearing to have been ground flat, but that was it. Someone very powerful had done this.

Bones was the first to spot something.

"Minister, I believe some of the black has been rubbed off, or is it painted over? I can't make out in this light." (It was after all 6pm in winter!)

"Indeed Madam Bones, I see more such lines in other places, now that you mention it".

"I wonder...could it be... _words_?", and so Bones called one of her aurors who was known to always carry a shrunken broom around, and told him to fly up and take a bird's eye view.

He came back and said "it says 'Draco's pocket'".

The young lad in question, having not yet attained the age where attention and adulation from anyone other than mom and dad were welcome, turned tail and ran when two dozen people turned to him. Madam Bones was behind him, however, and she caught him gently, and quickly searched his pockets.

She found a note, which she proceeded to read out:

 _Don't you love treasure hunts? Sadly, I did not get time to hide Draco himself, and make a multi-clue hunt. After all, what is a treasure hunt with only one clue!_

 _Meanwhile, a few things for you death-eaters to think about:_

 _Firstly, during the last war, your favourite fear tactic was to seal the house with the people inside and ignite it. Do you think I could not have done the same today?_

 _Secondly, you know what's common to all six of you - why your manors were chosen. The muggles and muggle-borns you had in your dungeons have been freed and are being taken care of. All of them are being watched for any attempts at retaliation._

 _If I hear of ANY of you restarting this activity in any way, shape, or form, I will burn ALL of you, with ALL your women and children, the way you used to when your half-blood bastard of a dark lord was alive. Please note what I said carefully: if even ONE of you does it, you ALL die. I suggest you all had better watch each other like hawks from now on._

 _I am essentially taking the law into my own hands, because guilt and innocence apparently don't make a difference to this ministry, and only bribes do. When we get a minister who cannot be bribed, I will stop doing this. Madam Bones: I can see your righteous indignation at my blatant disregard for the law. If you want to stop me, get rid of this corrupt bastard and become the minister - I know you are honest and will do the right things._

 _Until then, expect a_ _ **disproportionate response**_ _to anything these bastards do to normal, decent, folk._

 _The Phantom._

At this point Flint fainted.


	9. Chapter 9: Any color you like

Chapter 9: Any color you like, as long as it's Black

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

Meanwhile, our favourite elf-man has been busy.

 **1986-01-13 16:00 UTC, The Burrow**

 _The very first thing to do when it comes to freeing Sirius_ , thought Hobby, _is to make sure the rat is caught and held with no chance of escape_. One of the worst mistakes of his past life was not preventing Wormtail's escape in third year, and he was determined not to repeat that.

He popped directly into the attic in the Burrow, being the only place he was sure there would be no one. He then cast a revealing spell looking for the rat, slightly worried it may not be at home. By a stroke of luck, it was. Percy was more than a year away from his entry into Hogwarts, but the rat was his. And Percy, even at that age, seemed to have a bureaucratic bent of mind: when Hobby popped in, he was occupied in the extremely satisfying and rewarding, not to mention _important_ , task of sorting the last month's newspapers in chronological order.

The rat was in his pocket, peeking out looking at the headlines as Percy sorted the newspapers. Hobby wondered how someone could _fail_ to notice the expression of concentration on the rat's face; would it not occur to them that this was a very unusual rat?

Anyway, he petrified the rat, summoned it, and left. Percy, even when he was head boy, would not have been able to react in time. Percy, at the age of ten, was not even sure _what_ happened. All he could say when his mother found him sniffling was "someone took Scabbers". He had not seen who that someone was, of course.

Hobby fed the rat the draught of living death and placed him in a special cell in Grimmauld's dungeons that even Kreacher could not get him out of.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 17:00 UTC, Azkaban prison**

Hobby popped straight into Sirius Black's cell. He was not surprised to see him still there, the only so-called death-eater not to be released by Fudge's order. Clearly, Malfoy had prepared the list.

Looking out of a nearby window that faced the front of the prison, he noticed the ministerial party leaving.

He waited a few minutes for them to be out of sight of the prison, and went to see the warden, leaving Sirius alone for the moment. Of course, he went transformed as Malfoy.

"Warden, I would like to see the list of prisoners we released just now; I believe we may have made a mistake."

Mobius Crawford had been warden at Azkaban for the last three years. It was pretty much a dead-end job, with very little prospects for advancement, and a constant sense of doom and gloom in the background, caused by the dementors. He was about due for a rotation, and in fact when Minister Fudge arrived earlier today, he had at first thought he was being given his rotation papers.

He did wonder why there were so many people with him of course, and quickly realised that had nothing to do with him. He also quickly realised who, precisely, was calling the shots during the whole exercise: Lucius Malfoy.

So, when, barely five minutes after he had left with the minister, Lord Malfoy came back asking for a list that did not exist, he was nonplussed.

"My Lord, there was no list. Here's the order the minister himself served on me."

Hobby took the piece of parchment. For something that would destroy a barely four year-old peace and bring back the horrors of the war that preceded said peace, it was remarkably... unremarkable. Apart from the usual guff that was standard in any ministerial order, the only line was basically "all death-eaters are hereby released and pardoned".

"Hmm, I see", Hobby tried to mask his shock. This was an unexpected bonus; it appeared there was no actual list anywhere, only in Malfoy's mind. He wondered how he had conveyed the actual choices to the warden and the guards. Perhaps he just stood there and reeled off names. Anyway, he could not ask, and it was not worth bothering.

He could work with it. He was more and more happy he'd chosen to come back as an elf, and happier still about the blind spot.

He left the room, walked out till he was out of sight of the prison, then popped back to Sirius's cell, stunned him, and took him home to Grimmauld.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 17:30 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

This was a ticklish situation for Hobby. Kreacher should only see him as "Master Harry", while Sirius should not even know he existed.

"Kreacher, could you please come here?"

"Master Harry, you is back! What can Kreacher do for you?"

"Kreacher, I have the real Lord Black here. Although I am your master, he does not know that, and I do not want him to know that. I want him to think he was rescued by the 'Phantom' and placed here. I will leave a detailed note with instructions for him; wake him up after I have left, and take care of him."

"Yes Master Harry. Master Harry, _you_ is the 'Phantom'?"

"Kreacher, that is a secret that is **never** to be revealed to **any one** , not even Lord Black. Is that clear?"

"Yes Master Harry".

"I must also tell you, Kreacher, that the boy-who-lived will eventually move here, to live with Lord Black, who is his godfather. This Harry is, at present, a five year-old child, and does not know anything about magic. I am relying on you to teach him many things about the wizarding world. Will you do that? Remember you must not tell _anyone_ that you know me or have seen me - they will get confused!"

"Yes, Master Harry; I will not tell".

"OK. Now, how many patients are still there?"

"Only three Master Harry. The rest have been healed to a good extent and dropped off at various muggle locations, with their memories wiped".

"OK, if Lord Black asks, explain to him who they are and how they came to be here. Make sure you do not say who did it; just say it was the 'Phantom'.

"Yes, Master Harry."

With that, Hobby wrote a note for Sirius to read, and left.

* * *

 **1986-01-13 20:00 UTC, Daily Prophet offices**

Rita Skeeter was putting the finishing touches to her masterpiece article for a special edition of the Prophet. She had the full list of prisoners released this evening - only because they were introduced, with much cheering, at the press conference - and had come up with mini-biographies of each of them. Some were flattering, some were her usual hatchet job, depending on how she had been treated by them in years past. She was not too worried about the fact that these men were definitely death-eaters - it appears that the Phantom had put the fear of God into them; after all, no one can look threatening while they are _being_ threatened by someone else!

And that was another thing to investigate - who was this "Phantom"?

Hobby popped in, silent and invisible as usual, and petrified her. Making sure her back was to him, he cast a confundus charm on her to make sure she included Sirius Black in her list of released prisoners, with the following mini-biography supplied by him:

 _Sirius Black_

 _Sirius Black, now Lord Black, was the only Gryffindor in his family, nearly disowned for that and for his friendship with James Potter, the father of the boy-who-lived. Sirius Black was thrown into Azkaban_ _ **without a trial**_ _by Crouch, despite not having the dark mark on his arm. The lack of trial was one of the findings that took all the skills and contacts that this reporter has, because no one wants to_ _ **officially**_ _say that a Lord of an ancient house_ _ **can**_ _be thrown in jail without a trial! Perhaps all the other lords should think about this?_

 _While many think he was the secret-keeper for the Potters and betrayed them to you-know-who, this reporter's investigative skills have revealed that we only have the Chief Warlock's word for this. The Chief Warlock then sealed the Potter will, making it impossible for us to see what the will might have said about who the secret-keeper was, which makes the whole thing very suspicious._

 _In addition, there are rumours floating around in the underbelly of our world that say Peter Pettigrew is alive and well, albeit missing a finger, since that is all that was found of him._

 _All of this makes this reporter question exactly what happened in the aftermath of Halloween 1981._

* * *

 **1986-01-13 22:00 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage**

Malfoy was angry. Actually, he had gone beyond angry hours ago, and his mood was not helped by the abysmal accommodations he was forced to endure.

He would have thought that, having defended his sister-in-law, her husband and brother-in-law, and all the others released from Azkaban, and as the notional leader of their cause in the absence of their master, any of their luxurious properties would be made available to him while he was temporarily without a place to live.

Instead of jumping to that task with gratitude and alacrity, the Lestrange brothers had simply walked away. It appeared that, somehow, they blamed _him_ for both Bella's death, as well as the current crisis of fear that had gripped the death-eaters ( _and_ their families; since they were _all_ in attendance when that damn letter was read out!). In fact, the Lestranges insisted that it was his mis-management of post-Voldemort society that even allowed this so-called "Phantom" to exist.

As such, he was given a cottage on the edge of the Lestrange estate as if he were a gardener or farmer!

It was this reversal of loyalties, as much as the loss of his beautiful manor, that was making his blood boil. His two elves, Dobby and Nolly, were of course there, both having bowed obsequiously and wept great big tears at the loss of the master's beautiful home. Both were properly ashamed of themselves for having been caught unawares by the Phantom, and had offered to punish themselves _severely_.

(Dobby cleverly added "once the manor is restored", and it was taken to mean "there's work to be done now so we'll do this later", rather than "yeah right, when the sun rises in the west, asshole".)

And then, as if he did not already have enough on his plate, the special edition of the Prophet landed. On his plate, literally this time, since it arrived while he was having dinner, and the poor over-worked owl was a bit out of sorts with life in general.

Sirius Black was, apparently, free. _How the hell did that happen? I made sure he was not freed when we left Azkaban, and he was certainly not with us on the return trip nor was he at the press conference!_

He would have to do some serious damage control.

* * *

 **1986-01-14 07:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

"Ah, good morning Lucius! How are you today? I must say yesterday went very well. I saw the Prophet special edition; very positive about what we achieved yesterday my dear fellow, very positive indeed, with only a few of our unjustly imprisoned friends being portrayed negatively".

"Yes yes Cornelius, indeed it was, thank you for making it happen. However, I believe we made a slight mistake somewhere - Sirius Black was also freed yesterday, it would appear. Unfortunately, I believe he was the only one who was never under the imperius or loyalty potions, so he should not have been freed. We need to arrest him immediately!"

"Is that so Lucius? Hmm, I wonder how we made that mistake. I don't even remember a list, we just said 'all death-eaters' or something didn't we?"

"Yes Cornelius; we were somewhat rushed for time of course so that is understandable."

"Indeed, yes. Well, I will send out an order for him to be arrested and thrown back into his old cell; thank you for bringing this to my attention Lucius!"

"Ah no Cornelius. Since he is deemed to have _escaped_ from Azkaban, he needs to be put through the veil, not sent back to Azkaban."

And so it was that Madam Bones found herself being tasked with arresting Black and sending him through the veil. She had, of course, read the paper last night, and was determined to get to the bottom of this. She would certainly _not_ be sending someone through the veil without a heck of a lot of digging into the facts.

* * *

 **1986-01-14 08:00 UTC, St Mungo's**

While most of the recently released and pardoned prisoners were in for a decently long haul in the hospital, due to their prolonged exposure to the dementors, Lord Black did not seem so badly off; he wasn't even admitted to the in-patient wards. It looked as if all he needed were a few nutrient potions, skin care ( _Azkaban cells have fleas?_ , thought the healer, but he didn't say a word aloud), and a regimen of potions for the next couple of weeks.

When Sirius stepped out of the examination room, clutching his potions bag in one hand, he was met by Amelia Bones.

"Black, you're under arrest. We don't know how you got out, because the minister swears you were not on the list. Surrender your wand and come with us."

Sirius looked behind her, as if he was searching for someone. Bones turned around at the sound of a small cough. Matias Reiter was standing there, legal briefs and other weighty looking papers in hand.

"He hasn't got his wand back, Madam Bones. That is part of the case we are filing against the ministry. The main case is kidnapping - a kidnap that lasted more than four years - because there was no trial. You can only hold someone without a trial for 90 days, which means he's been illegally detained for three years and eleven months now. You really don't want to compound that by arresting him _after_ the case has been filed!"

Sirius decided to chip in. "And let me assure you there was no list - ask the warden if you like. In fact, I am the only one among those released yesterday who does not have a dark mark, too, plus the only one who did not have a trial at all. All the others had a trial."

"And finally", Reiter continued, "the only _list_ anyone can find is in the Daily Prophet, and he is certainly there. Rather careless of your minister not to have an actual list before he rushed off, no?"

* * *

 **1986-01-14 09:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office**

Eventually, Madam Bones made her way back and reported to Minister Fudge that Lord Black could not be arrested.

Malfoy was still there, of course, and had to have his say. Interrupting whatever response Fudge _may_ have had, he said, in his snootiest voice, "Madam Bones, I find myself somewhat disappointed. How many people did you take with you?"

"Irrelevant, Lord Malfoy. Lord Black's threats were entirely of the courtroom kind, not physical or magical violence. As far as he and his lawyer are concerned, he has been held without trial for 4 years and 2 months, which is 3 years and 11 months over the maximum we are allowed to hold someone without trial."

"Is he claiming he did not have a trial? Preposterous! He may have confunded Skeeter somehow, but we cannot be swayed by lies like that!", said Fudge.

"Cornelius, I am coming from the records room. There was no trial. The arrest sheet has nothing on it except 'found laughing like a madman at the scene', and it was signed by Crouch and Dumbledore. Trust me, he has a valid case. I'm only happy I was not involved at that time, and so should you be. Take my advice, Cornelius, and leave this one alone. Malfoy here will sink with it if he persists in this, and if you want to sink with him, that's your choice!"

" **How dare you, Madam Bones!** ", shouted Malfoy. "What do you mean 'sink with it', are you implying that I am wrong?"

"I am not implying it. I am _saying_ that you are wrong. If you persist in this, be prepared for some really nasty surprises. Black is prepared to take veritaserum _and_ an oath on his magic, but Reiter is going to insist that if it comes to that, he will force _every one of you_ \- those that were released yesterday as well as the ones who never went in at all - to do the same.

To be honest, I find myself hoping you _will_ be foolish enough to push this.", she ended with a smirk.

Malfoy did not say a word. Face red and blotchy - lack of sleep, the loss of his home and all his possessions, and now this - he stormed out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10: With friends like these

Chapter 10: With friends like these...

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-14 08:00 UTC, Carrows home**

Hobby, transformed to look like Flint, dropped in on the Carrows. From what he remembered, both from his life as Harry and from Dobby's memories, these two were spectacularly stupid, as well as mindlessly cruel.

"Flint? What brings you here? Has your son been found?", asked Alecto. Of course everyone knew Marcus had been missing since New Year's Day.

"Sadly, no. I have my suspicions about who has him though. All I can say is it's one of us, and once I get proof, there will be hell to pay. But that is not what I am here for. I found some distressing information and I did not know whom to share it with."

Always good for some old-fashioned gossip, Alecto settled down for a long chat. Amycus joined them and sat down too.

"Well, you heard what happened last night of course?"

"Yes, who hasn't! I assume Malfoy was lying through his teeth, just between ourselves?"

"Yes indeed, he was. For the most part anyway. But I have received word - and I cannot tell you from where, since I was sworn to secrecy as to the source - that _one_ of the released men is indeed not loyal to our Lord."

"Really? Who?", said Amycus.

"Rookwood. Apparently unspeakable oaths are very strong, and take priority over all other loyalties. They also _override_ all oaths taken before or after, basically allow you to make oaths that you don't mean. He has _never_ been loyal to our Lord."

"Oh my God that's terrible. How much of our organisation has been compromised because of him? And what is to be done now?"

"For the first question, no one really knows. As for the second, there is vague talk that someone should visit him in Mungo's while he is still recovering, and finish him off. However, everyone who was in the meetings and other events yesterday is being watched and is subject to investigation. I wish someone could do that on the quiet...", said Flint.

Amycus was used to this. A hint would be dropped, without any explicit request. The job would get done, somehow. Some cash would be made available at some point after that. Care would be taken not to create a link between those three activities. Nothing was ever said that could lead to a compromising answer, even in a veritaserum investigation, unless the investigator asked a very specific, precisely worded, question.

Alecto nodded. "Indeed, Flint, indeed. It would be nice if someone were to do something".

"Oh well, it was nice to get it off my chest. I have to go back now."

"Goodbye Flint! I hope you find your son soon!"

* * *

 **1986-01-14 09:00 UTC, St. Mungo's**

It turned out to be very easy to get into Rookwood's room. Not surprising, of course, because Hobby was bluffing about all of them being watched.

When Amycus and Alecto walked in, there was no one in that room. They quickly put up a silencing charm at the door, and simultaneously shot killing curses at Rookwood, from point blank range.

Unfortunately, while it was true that no one was specially being watched, there _was_ an automatic lockdown on any ward where an unforgivable was detected. Actually, Alecto knew this; she just remembered two seconds too late - after the lockdown went into effect and an alarm ward had also tripped, pinpointing the location of the unforgivable with its annoying hooting.

If only they had used a reducto or something... oh well, nothing for it but to fight it out.

Within a few seconds there were four aurors in front of the door, and the lockdown was manually countermanded. One of the aurors shouted into the door: "Carrows, please throw your wands out before you, then come out with your hands clearly visible and away from any pockets or sleeves".

So they knew who they were and how many. For the first time, Alecto wondered if they were too quick to jump onto this job.

They threw their primary wands out, then walked out. Alecto went first, with hands out as prescribed. Amycus followed close behind her, holding a wand in the hand that was behind Alecto. It could only be seen from the side, which could only happen once they exited the doorway.

Unfortunately, Moody was one of the four aurors, and he was on the side that gave him a clear view of the extra wand. Through the wall of course. So Moody kept his wand pointed where it would emerge from the room, and fired a diffindo straight at Amycus's wrist, following it up almost immediately with another. Alecto, shocked by Moody's spell, flinched, then ducked. Instinctively, Amycus ducked also.

That would have been perfect for a spell coming from in front, of which there were none. However, his neck, due to his ducking forward, was now in the spot where his wrist was a second ago.

Alecto saw her brother almost beheaded, right behind her. She grabbed her own spare wand, hidden in her sleeve, and fired at the nearest auror. A few more shots here and there, and it was all over - one death-eater dead, one severely wounded but not critical, and two aurors with moderate injuries. All in all, a good day for the good guys.

* * *

 **1986-01-17 10:00 UTC, Flint "manor"**

It had been three days since the momentous events that shook up the wizarding world's upper echelons, and the balance of light and dark. Three days during which everyone laid low, just in case. No one wanted to take a chance that things would get worse somehow.

At a time when they should have been celebrating the release of all their comrades, the death-eaters were scared witless by the burning down of the six manors, and by how close the residents themselves had come to being killed. Worse, they were especially confused about why the Carrows had killed Rookwood. Alecto was being held incommunicado, and their spies in the ministry seemed not to be able to get any information out.

Flint's son had still not been found. He had pretty much given up on the 'Phantom' finding him - the Phantom had set fire to all the manors he had named, plus the one he had not named: Malfoy Manor.

As Flint was thinking about where his son might be, and what this Phantom might know about him, Malfoy walked in, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. Nott and Macnair were with him.

Malfoy had received an anonymous note that his mudblood prisoner had been rescued by someone who was working with the Phantom, because she was deemed too beautiful to kill. He knew exactly who that was; in fact there was only one person who even _knew_ about that specific mudblood in his former home's dungeons. Collecting Nott and Macnair for backup, in case the so-called Phantom was around, he decided to confront Flint. He knew Macnair was Marcus's godfather, but he disregarded that; this had nothing to do with the missing boy.

Unbeknownst to him, Nott and Macnair had received separate notes, asking them to _think_ for once, instead of blindly following someone else. Think about who else had access to _all_ these homes, each heavily warded against enemies, and considered _impossible_ to get into. Think about who would want the second most powerful death-eater - Rookwood - out of the way, who would benefit. Food for thought.

Malfoy's accusations against Flint, who was never known for being very smart, but was definitely loyal to the Dark Lord, did not sit well with Nott or Macnair, but neither showed any sign of it. Like good Slytherins, they decided to play along and see what happened.

Back to Flint "manor":

"Good mor-"

"Cut the crap, Flint. Why did you do it?"

"Do what, Malfoy?"

"How do you know the Phantom? Why are you working with him?"

"What? I never-"

"Flint, I should have guessed when you fainted that day. I thought it was shock at the overall situation, but you actually fainted when the signature on that note was read out, right? The 'Phantom' is what made you faint".

"Malfoy, I have no clue what you are talking about. I will take an oath if you wish."

"Forget the oaths, let's go to your dungeon."

"What? You know I've stopped doing that, since I cannot control my temper and my prisoners die too fast!"

"Nevertheless, that is what we will do. Right now!"

Flint hesitated. He really had no clue what was going on, and he was uncomfortable with what seemed like a three-against-one situation, although Macnair was his cousin and Marcus's godfather so that would help. He quickly held his wand up, and intoned, "I swear on my magic that I have never knowingly betrayed our cause or our Lord. So I swear, so it is!"

Macnair looked impassive, but Nott seemed pleased. No one noticed that the oath did not preclude working with the Phantom _before_ he turned out to be against their cause. Malfoy looked annoyed at being side-tracked. "Enough! To your dungeons, **NOW**!".

At the end of the stairs, Flint opened the door dramatically and stepped aside, waving his friends in with a flourish, like a major domo ushering in VIP guests into the dining room. Unfortunately, his "manor" being what it was, his dungeons were also quite small and cramped for four people. So Malfoy stepped half a pace back, shoved Flint in, and walked in after him.

Flint was staring goggle-eyed at the girl, still stunned, lying on the floor. She had been there for three days with no food or drink, and looked it.

" **YOU TRAITOROUS BASTARD! So you DID steal her from my dungeons before my manor was burnt down! If that does not prove you are in cahoots with this 'Phantom', I don't know what does!** , screamed Malfoy in an absolute rage.

Nott stepped away from him and Macnair, and coolly said, "Malfoy, very few people have unrestricted access to all our manors, by which to get the women and kids and even elves out. You are actually the only one with access to _all_ of them - I checked. I am wondering if you transported this girl here yourself at some point, and if so, why? Besides, Flint has taken a magical oath!"

Malfoy was aghast. Well, two can play the oath game. "I swear on my magic I did not bring this girl here and until this morning I thought she was freed along with the ones in the other dungeons. So I swear, so it is!"

But his anger was not abated. He turned to the girl and let out his frustration on her. " **CRUCIO!** ", he screamed, and held it for a good thirty seconds, the screams of the girl slowly relaxing him and bringing his temper down.

When he had calmed down, he said, "You know, Flint, maybe her accidental magic did something to move her here when my manor burned down. If so, her magic is very powerful indeed. I can see no other explanation, however; do you?"

Due to the two magical oaths from the principals, everyone had calmed down somewhat (not to mention crucio-ing someone being such a relaxing thing for Malfoy). Saner heads tried to find any other explanation, but could not.

"Kill the bitch!", said Nott.

" **No!** ", it was amusing to hear _three_ voices raised against that. Looks like Emily had picked up yet another, shall we say... "admirer"? Disgusting people!

Malfoy, as usual, had a solution. "Strip her magic from her! It's a simple ritual, only needs a wee bit of her own blood, not enough to damage her physically in any way. She has to be willing to lose her magic of course, but I think she will agree - we have tortured her enough that a promise of being treated well will suffice. After all the trouble she has been, it would be silly of us to throw her aside before using her properly."

The others having agreed, Malfoy prepared a small ritual circle right there, cramped as it was, drew some blood from the girl's finger into a vial, then woke her up and hit her with a silencing spell.

"Do you recognise this wand?"

For some reason she was staring at Flint. She looked to Malfoy, nodded, and then switched to Flint again.

"Do you want to be treated nicely? No more pain? Good food? Nice bed?"

Turn. Nod. Turn back to Flint. Pleading looks, as if she was trying to tell Flint something.

"You will be treated nicely if you agree to lose your magic. Do you agree?"

This time she stared at Flint more than before. She tried to open her mouth to say something, but the silencing spell was strong. She had tears in her eyes, and was still looking at Flint.

"Cru-", started Malfoy. She turn to him and nodded violently.

"You agree to lose your magic in order to be treated nicely?"

Nod.

Malfoy levitated her into the ritual circle, placed a few drops of her blood at specific points on the circle, and chanted something.

A bright flash of light, and her magic was gone.

Along with the blue glow from the ring on Flint's hand.


	11. Chapter 11: An eye for an eye

Chapter 11: An eye for an eye

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-01-17 10:30 UTC, Flint "manor"**

Flint stared at his ring in shock. His son was dead. Someone, somewhere, had killed his son. He was unable to stand, and fell down, almost fainting. The dungeon being what it was, he fell into the ritual circle.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had removed the petrifaction on the girl, though not the silencing spell. When Flint fell in, the girl dropped herself into his lap and started sobbing heavily, crying buckets of tears. She still could not speak, but she could move about. She wrote one word in the dust on the floor: "DAD".

Flint was in no shape to notice any of this, even if a girl he had been drooling over was now all over him, the loss of his son had really hit him. Until now, there was some hope. But now, it was all gone.

It was Nott who first realised what had happened, or at least suspected. On the premise that it wouldn't do any harm anyway, he hit the girl with a strong "finite" spell.

And suddenly, like magic (really!) Marcus Flint was there. A squib, to be sure, but in far better shape than many who had passed through those same dungeons.

Flint turned a hard eye toward Malfoy. "What did you do to my boy, Malfoy?", he asked coldly. This was a surprise to the others; they had not known Flint was capable of _cold_ anger, having only ever seen his _hot_ temper!

Malfoy was still trying to get his speech back. Finally, he said, "that girl has been in _my_ dungeons for _eight months_ , Flint, and you bloody well know it, God knows you've drooled over her enough times! Your son went missing only on New Years Day. I have _no_ idea how this could have happened; I'm willing to swear to it!"

Oaths seemed to be a dime a dozen here, but the "eight months" versus "seventeen days" argument simply could not be denied. Flint seemed unable to say any more, his son was still sniffling (he knew the fate of squibs in this world, but it was better than what Malfoy would have done to him otherwise), and Macnair had a vacant stare going.

Malfoy and Nott beat a hasty retreat, leaving father, son, and godfather to acquaint themselves with the new reality. Although, there was no telling what a pureblood family would do to a squib; it was not considered polite to even ask.

* * *

 **1986-01-18 09:30 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage**

Malfoy had decided to spend as much time as possible in the Wizengamot chambers, or in the Minister's office, or supervising the new Malfoy Manor's construction. He did not want to stay here except for sleep, shower, and breakfast.

Narcissa had gone off somewhere, probably some ladies bridge party or something. She didn't seem to have been much affected by the loss of her home.

That left Draco all by himself. He was playing with a toy broom, wondering if, for his sixth birthday, he would get a real one, when the front door opened, and in walked Macnair.

"Hello, Draco! How are you? Do you want to go to Diagon Alley and see if we can find a bigger broomstick for you?"

* * *

 **1986-01-18 11:00 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage**

Hobby returned from one of his trips (to either Grimmauld, or to Nick and Penny's place) at about 11, and noticed _no one_ was at home. This home, being only a temporary residence, did not have all the protections that Malfoy Manor had, which did not bode well for at least Draco's well-being.

 _Why am I worrying about him?_ , he thought. He'd heard Malfoy tell his wife last night that the Flint boy had been found, and he was startled. How had it happened? Who had discovered him? What happened afterward? So he listened carefully, till he pieced together what happened. (It was obvious, really, that anything that worked off the target's magic, such as the goblin-made life-stone, would not be able to distinguish between "dead" and "squib".)

Of all the "children", Marcus and Draco were the two he would not have minded seeing killed, but he would not be completely guilt-free if that happened. Turning them into squibs, now that the idea had been given to him quite by chance, was the **perfect** solution. It was a fate worse than death by _their_ standards, yet induced no guilt at all in him (no muggle-born or muggle-raised would think it a big deal). This was great; he may have to learn this ritual - even with the proviso that it had to be voluntary, it might still come in useful.

But now Draco was missing. It may be too early to worry about it, especially because he didn't know who else would be interested, but this bore watching.

* * *

 **1986-01-18 11:45 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage**

Malfoy floo-ed in and started shouting immediately, "Elves!". Both Dobby and Nolly popped in, did the usual bowing and scraping dance, and waited.

"Did anyone come in while I was gone?"

Nolly did not wait for Dobby nor look at him. He knew Dobby had gone off somewhere (bad elf!) but did not want to get him in trouble. So he quickly answered, "Mister Macnair Sir bes come Master. He bes invite Master Draco to shopping for broomsticks master".

Malfoy did not say anything. He went to the floo, called out some address, and spoke to Narcissa. Presently, she came back home through the floo, and they sat down in the dining room. Telling the elves to get them some tea, Malfoy started explaining to Narcissa.

"I received an unsigned message today while I was in the ministry. It basically said: we have your boy. Do not inform the aurors; if you do, we will obliviate him back to 2 years of age and leave him in Siberia. Await further instructions."

"I do not know who sent it; of course it was unsigned."

Narcissa sighed. "Who did you make an enemy of lately?"

Malfoy looked outraged, though his wife did not seem impressed. "No one. Flint thought I had something to do with the girl replacing herself on New Years day with Flint's boy, but that is preposterous - if it was really her accidental magic that did it, I cannot be blamed, and if I did it, where is the girl? Why would I make the switch?"

"So what do we do? 'Await further instructions'?"

"I don't see what else we can do. I also have a life-stone on Draco, and at the moment he is alive; that is all we know for now. Once we have him back, _then_ we can think about revenge as well as preventing something like this happening again. In any case, this would never have happened if our manor hadn't burnt down, it had al-", he paused, looking at her expression.

"The so-called 'Phantom' got in, and could have killed any of us who were at home", she reminded him.

"Yes, but this does not look like the Phantom's handiwork".

Hobby heard all this and sat quiet. He would have to wait till Malfoy was out before he did anything.

The question was, did he want to? Someone was getting rid of the future junior death-eater, or at least threatening to. Hobby sat for a while, thinking about all the things Malfoy had done to him and his friends in school. If you discounted sixth year, it didn't actually amount to much, but the attitude, the _promise_ of what was coming and what he would become - fulfilled in sixth year, when he almost ended up killing two students, and followed it up by putting the whole school in danger - was what formed one end of Hobby's dilemma.

On the other end, the simple fact that at this moment, the individual who was in danger was a barely 6 year old child.

Well... there's always the Marcus Flint option, no guilt then. It would be nice to find something that does the same magic stripping but does _not_ require consent, he thought.

Meanwhile, he'd simply wait.

He did have a somewhat ironic - deliciously ironic, actually - punishment in mind for Macnair, should he decide to spare Draco this time. And it would, as with the Flint boy, reflect suspicion back on Malfoy!

* * *

 **1986-01-18 14:00 UTC, Macnair estate**

For the first hour or so since Mr Macnair had brought him here, promising to take him to Diagon Alley for a broomstick, Draco sat quietly playing with a toy he had brought with him.

After that, things weren't so good. He was bored, and so he started to badger Mr Macnair, asking why they were here and not in Diagon. Macnair tried to tell him the shops hadn't opened yet, or something, but eventually he lost his temper. He had no clue how to handle kids, and he basically ended up shutting him in a small ante-room next to the living room.

Even when he was older, Draco was not one to handle adversity well, relying more on his father than on himself to bail him out and make things better. Plus, he was still young enough that his mother held an equal, if not greater, place in his mind as a protector. And neither of them were here.

He bawled for a bit, then, exhausted, fell asleep on one of the chairs in the room.

When he woke up, his mind was somewhat scrambled, and - more out of habit than anything else - he called out "Dobby, I am hungry".

Hobby popped in, bowed (not very low), and said "what would Master Draco like to have?" Draco told Hobby what he wanted, Hobby popped away and brought his food back, and left.

At no time did Draco think to ask if Dobby could pop him back. Hobby, for his part, knowing that he was not in bad shape (after all, if _food_ was his top concern...), decided not to pop him back. He **definitely** did not want that blind spot fixed anytime this century, and properly rescuing Draco would certainly do it.

( _Seriously_ , he reflected, _if anyone had told me about this in my past life I would have refused to believe it, for the sheer stupidity boggles the mind. How can they_ _ **know**_ _that elves can transport heavy furniture and domestic animals, but think that they themselves cannot be transported?_ )

So, no, rescuing Draco was out. But he could tell Malfoy, couldn't he?

"Master, Dobby is bes called by Master Draco, asking for food. Dobby bes giving him food and something to drink".

" **WHAT?** You have seen him? Where is he? Is he alright?", Narcissa fired off questions before Malfoy could react.

"Master Draco be in Master Macnair's manor, mistress. He bes in a locked room next to the living room."

* * *

 **1986-01-18 14:30 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

"I tell you, Cornelius, I will not stand for this. I want my son rescued, and Macnair arrested, within the next ten minutes, or as much time as it takes to rustle up a couple of aurors".

Bones had also been called in. Inside, she was simultaneously happy and confused - why had one of these bastards turned against one of his own, and in such a dastardly manner as to take a child?

(She _had_ heard rumours from the grapevine that Flint's boy, when he was finally found, had lost his magic, but no details. However, she did not know that Marcus was Macnair's godson, otherwise she would have suspected Malfoy of at least _knowing_ something of, if not being responsible for, Flint's boy's kidnapping.)

"We'll need a ward breaker team first", she objected. "We'll be lucky to get the team together in ten minutes!"

"I have access to his manor, unless he has revoked it. In theory I could go and get my son myself; I just don't know how much of a fight he will put up, or if he will make the situation worse for Draco. So really, all I'm asking for is an auror escort for safety".

* * *

 **1986-01-18 14:30 UTC, Macnair estate**

The moment Malfoy and his wife had left for the Ministry, Hobby had popped to the Macnair estate. Macnair was in the kitchen, having a quick meal, chased down by a drink. His elf, Tidy (named for her extreme love of cleanliness) was serving him something when Hobby popped in and she saw him.

"Master Macnair sir, Dobby bes have a message from his master. His master needs Master Macnair sir's help", saying which, Hobby took a letter out of his pocket. Macnair took the letter, and promptly disappeared.

Hobby obliviated Tidy of the entire sequence, made her think her master had apparated away for reasons unknown, and left.

* * *

 **1986-01-18 14:45 UTC, Macnair estate**

When Malfoy and the aurors appeared in front of Macnair estate, Macnair was nowhere to be found. They advanced easily through the wards, because Malfoy took them through, and - in somewhat of an anti-climax - opened the door to Draco's "prison" with no sight of man or elf anywhere.

Narcissa rushed in and grabbed her son up in a huge hug. Once she was assured he was alright, and - thanks to Dobby - not even hungry or thirsty, she looked at her husband. "Have they found the bastard?" She didn't seem to care that her very young and impressionable son was right there and she was swearing.

"Not yet. And I'm glad he wasn't here. I would not want to get into a fight with my wife and child right there". (Malfoy had tried to get her to stay back, anticipating a fight. She'd refused.)

"On the contrary, I wish he were here, and had put up a fight; I'd have shown him how a mother deals with people who kidnap their child.", she growled.

"For you, Lucius, Draco is an heir, and his kidnapping is an affront to the power of you and your family name. Don't deny it; it is very clear that his primary role is as the bearer of the Malfoy name in future. I'm not saying you don't love him, but that is secondary. For me, the priorities are reversed. Anyone doing this to my child, will suffer. And they will suffer for the rest of their short, miserable, lives".

For good or bad, the aurors had finished searching the grounds for Macnair and had walked in, just in time to hear this dramatic statement.

* * *

 **1986-01-19 09:30 UTC, St. Kilda Hippogriff preserve, Outer Hebrides**

Hobby had been elated to find that the Malfoys owned a hippogriff preserve.

He was, of course, completely at a loss to understand how, then, Draco could have behaved that way with Buckbeak. Was he kept away from his family's various holdings and interests, not given even the barest of familiarity with them? Did he not get to even see them and learn the basics? Or was the whole thing an act, designed to harm Hagrid and perhaps Dumbledore? If so, it was a very dangerous game - you'd have to be really cool-headed to get away with precisely so much injury, no less and no more!

Anyway, here it was, tucked away in a part of the country where there were very few muggles (when it was established anyway).

In a corner of this preserve, behind an almost dolmen-like formation ( _heck it probably_ _ **was**_ _a dolmen!_ , thought Hobby), was Macnair, stunned and petrified since yesterday afternoon, when he had been sent here by portkey. The wards had done the stunning and petrifaction, of course, not Hobby. Hobby had merely come by late evening to make sure he was reasonably comfortable, and put a blanket on him. Wouldn't do to have him die of cold or something, oh no it wouldn't, not at all!

Now he woke him up, Macnair immediately tried to apparate away, his sixth sense for danger apparently stronger than his temper. Hobby's wards stopped him.

Macnair finally noticed Dobby, turned toward him, and said, "What did you bastard master tell you when he gave you that portkey you tricked me with? Is he coming here? I may not be able to apparate but he won't win against me, not easily anyway. He'll remember, and rue this day for the rest of his life."

"Malfoy did not send me to you. I did that on my own."

"WHAT!? **You** , a **house-elf**? How can you act without someone ordering you?" For the moment, Macnair did not notice the speech.

"None of your business. I am here to exact retribution for kidnapping a small child. Now, don't get me wrong - this is not because he is my master's son or some such nonsense. In fact, if you had waited till he was in Hogwarts, and actually _become_ a right bastard by himself, I would probably have applauded. But not until he grows up a bit more and fucks up in some way."

Macnair was listening with increasing confusion. No house-elf he ever knew would speak like that. Maybe this was a different one - maybe one of the half-bloods had one that looked like Malfoy's, and had trained it to do things like this. Maybe...

"Stop over-thinking, Macnair. Even normal thinking was never your strong point, and without that axe in your hand you're not even much of a fighter!" Hobby then used the shock of this statement to summon Macnair's wand to himself.

By now Macnair knew he was in deep shit, though the nature of that shit was not at all clear to him. He lunged at Hobby, since a physical attack was the only thing that he had left to him.

Hobby petrified him in mid-leap. He then transported him exactly like that to one of the more aggressive hippogriffs, propelled him horizontally toward the hippogriff, and freed him from the petrifaction in mid-flight. He left the man's wand on the ground a few feet away, and then popped off.

* * *

 **1986-01-19 11:30 UTC, location unknown**

"Hobby", said Penny seriously. "Everything seems to be going your way so far. Whatever you've planned, aren't you worried that something really big will come undone? I am worried that you are getting over-confident!"

"Well, you said it yourself the day we met, Penny. You said I will be able to get away with a lot of things that no wizard will dream a house-elf could do, or at best will think the Malfoys ordered me to!"

"Well, yes, but I meant... well look what happened with Bellatrix".

"Oh no Penny, I am not saying no one can beat me! Even in fair combat I may not always win - Bella taught me how close I could come to losing! And a covert attack would certainly kill me. I'm not sure what hell I will face when I go back 'up there' of course!

What I am saying is that the mindset changes required for someone to deem me a threat and do something - _anything_ \- about it, are virtually impossible in this world. Would you believe Macnair, even with the evidence staring him in the face, refused to believe it until he was almost dead - and even then I am not quite certain he did.

Penny smiled fondly at him, her worry for this strange elf-man somewhat abated.

* * *

 **1986-01-19 18:30 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

"I am not suggesting anything Minister. I am merely stating facts. Facts which **will** be printed in the Prophet's evening edition, probably already out by now.

Fact #1: Draco Malfoy, age 5, was kidnapped by Macnair. Reasons unknown, I have only speculation there.

Fact #2: Narcissa made some **serious** threats toward Macnair. Exact quote: _Anyone doing this to my child, will suffer. And they will suffer for the rest of their short, miserable, lives_.

Fact #3, the Malfoys have a hippogriff preserve in the Outer Hebrides.

Fact #4, Macnair was found there, mauled to death by one of the more aggressive hippogriffs this evening."

"How were the aurors tipped off?"

"One of the two aurors who heard Narcissa Malfoy threaten Macnair was given a somewhat gloating note, no signature on it, by a house-elf. He thinks it was one of the Malfoy elves but can't swear to it, he says all elves look the same to him. The Malfoys have not been approached - they'd simply laugh and deny it anyway so there's no point."

"All said and done, do you have enough to arrest her and _guarantee_ a conviction, Amelia?"

"Sadly, no. And to be honest, I'm not interested in her. Far be it from me to agree with a death-eater's wife, but if someone tries something with Susan, I'll gut him in public and make him eat his entrails!"

"Thank you for the imagery, Amelia! Now, fact #5: the actual death appears to have occurred sometime between 9 and 11am. Fact #6: Narcissa was with my wife playing bridge at that time."

"I've already told you once that tying yourself to Malfoy will sink you, now you have your wife tying herself to his wife. Do you have a mutual suicide pact or something?"

Leaving Fudge speechless, she swept out the room. Women know how to get the last word, and if, sometimes, the only way to do that is to quickly leave the room, then so be it!


	12. Chapter 12: Chipping away at the base

Chapter 12: Chipping away at the base

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-02-24 09:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Sirius had cannily asked Minerva, not Dumbledore, for a meeting, though Dumbledore was the end goal. Minerva was somewhat reluctant to meet, because of the mild taint of having been merely pardoned instead of being properly exonerated. A taint that lay much more heavily against the real death-eaters of course, but Sirius was a victim of guilt by association. Minerva was honest enough to admit to herself that that was all it was, thus enabling her to accept his request and ask him to come in via the floo.

When he entered her office, the first thing he said was "Minerva: magical oath, veritaserum, or pensieve? Or any combination of the above?"

Minerva was now very glad she had not rebuffed him when he had asked for a meeting. But she still needed to make sure. "What are you talking about, Mr Black?"

"The world may or may not know that I am innocent of pretty much _everything_ that has been laid at my door except bad judgement, but I need you to know for sure".

"Pensieve is best, I think", she said. "Let us go see Albus and ask to borrow his pensieve".

So they both walked over to Dumbledore's office, chatting amiably. Sirius called her "Minnie" a couple of times to tease her, but her mind was on what she would see and did not react too much.

When they entered, they saw Dumbledore had a visitor. "Oh excuse us, we can come back later", sad Minerva.

But Sirius had seen who the visitor was, so he said, "I don't mind if Kingsley sees my memories; in fact I'd have asked him anyway."

Dumbledore had a pretty good idea what Sirius was going to show and decided to nip this in the bud. "Sorry, Minerva, Kingsley and I are very busy and just _cannot_ spare the time. Whatever Mr Black has decided to waste your time with, needs to wait."

That "waste of time" comment did him in. If he had not added that snide remark, Minerva might well have retreated and come back later; she definitely would not have reacted like this:

"Are you telling me I cannot judge when one of my lions is wasting my time or has something important to say? Do not forget, Albus, that I still _teach_ all the kids in school, as opposed to merely seeing them at mealtimes from a distance". Turning to Sirius, she said "come on; we'll go to Grizzy's office at the WEA and use her pensieve".

This was even worse. Griselda Marchbanks was an old friend of Augusta Longbottom. While most people would say "yeah, _old_ ", as if that was the operative word, Dumbledore knew that "friend" was the real one there - the two old women met regularly and exchanged news almost instantly (but you could not call them "gossip-mongers" because the topics were always serious and important, not "gossipy").

As such, if whatever Black was showing Minerva was seen by Marchbanks, then Madam Longbottom would eventually hear about it. If she wasn't already with her that is.

But Dumbledore could not back-track now; he had - most unusually for himself - failed to leave himself an out when he said, so emphatically, that they had no time. Even if he tried to, Minerva would see through it, and - annoyed at him already for the snide comment about wasting time - would give as good as she got.

The only saving grace was that if Kingsley did not see it, then Amelia would not hear about it (after all she was his boss!); thank God for small mercies.

* * *

 **1986-02-24 10:00 UTC, Madam Marchbanks' office**

Unfortunately, God was not in a mood for mercies, at least not the smaller kind.

If Dumbledore had known that Amelia was _in_ Professor Marchbanks' office at the moment Minerva and Sirius entered, and that Madam Longbottom was also there, he would have definitely kicked Shacklebolt out and invited Minerva and Sirius in. As it was, _four_ of the most powerful and influential women in their world were going to see Sirius's memories now.

Sirius was ecstatic. _Thank God I decided to start with Minerva; this is working out much better than I thought it would!_ , he mused. He knew that Dumbledore had a lot to answer for in his case, and he suspected he was only one part of the old man's game. His biggest worry was his godson - rumour had it he was with muggles, which meant Petunia. That would not do, not while he had anything to say about it.

Rumour also was that Dumbledore had sealed the Potters' wills.

In any case, Dumbledore was too powerful to bring down with a direct attack. The statue's base, figuratively speaking, had to be chipped away in several vital spots and only then could you hope for the whole thing to come down.

Sirius showed the four ladies the Fidelius being cast by Dumbledore, then the confrontation with Peter.

Then he paused and told them, while facing Amelia specifically, "I _am_ guilty of a minor crime, one which does carry a thousand galleon fine. But I would like to beg your indulgence in this, because it could prove to be the difference between life and death if the dark bastards ever come back to power. I assure you it does not harm anyone else."

Amelia looked at him carefully, judging what it could be. Then, the previous two memories having probably put her in a frame of mind sympathetic to Sirius, nodded.

So Sirius showed them memories of himself, James, and Peter becoming animagi in order to keep Remus company. The fact that Remus was a werewolf was also a bit of a shock but only to Professor Marchbanks and to Amelia. (He wondered who had told Madam Longbottom, but let it go for now; no point bringing up painful memories for her, considering what he had learned of her son and daughter-in-law's current state.)

Then he paused again. This time the looks were more challenging, especially from Amelia. Apparently one "illegal" secret was bad but, if you pleaded with her, she could overlook it. There had better not be one more such secret, her eyes seemed to be saying.

"This memory was sent to me in a vial, by a note that was merely signed 'the Phantom'".

They all dutifully raised their eyebrows (a younger and more gossipy bunch would have gasped, he thought), but said nothing.

He had seen it of course; it was only a few seconds long - the rat, missing finger and all, poking out of the pocket of what could only be a Weasley child, judging by the hair.

"The note burnt up as soon as I read it, so you have only my word for this. But in that note, he takes great pains to explain that the Weasleys have _no_ clue what that rat is and are _not_ to be blamed for this in any way whatsoever. He also said the rat is no longer there; he has captured it and kept it in a safe place. The day I have a proper trial, the Phantom will supply the rat direct to me."

"And you believe all this?", asked Amelia.

"I have no reason not to", he said. Then, "Amelia, you know Fudge's order to free all death-eaters did not actually include a list, so how did the warden know whom to release?"

Amelia gestured for him to go on, intrigued by the apparent non sequitur.

"It was implemented by Malfoy standing there and calling out names. Now, do you really think he would have called out my name, knowing what you know now, and knowing that, as far as he knows, the only other _male_ of Black blood is his son?"

"So how did you get out?", asked Minerva. _Again, a younger and more gossipy bunch would have latched on to the "as far as he knows" and asked if I have a by-blow or two hiding somewhere, but not these ladies!_ , he thought.

"I have no memory of that. I found myself in Grimmauld, with the Black house-elf Kreacher taking care of me. He said the Phantom dropped me off. He also left a note for me which explained how Malfoy had gotten all the real death-eaters out, and left only me - among the prisoners that were considered by the public to be death-eaters - back there."

Augusta laughed. "That right there is proof that you're a good guy I guess, if Malfoy did indeed leave you behind! But we can't know that for sure, simply because this Phantom says it is".

Amelia chipped in, "oh it's definitely true. When Malfoy found out Sirius got out, he went into a royal snit and made Fudge call me in and order me to arrest Sirius!"

"Speaking of Malfoy", Augusta interrupted, "whatever happened to that issue with Macnair being found dead on Malfoy's hippogriff preserve?"

"Nothing. They simply claimed complete ignorance of the event, and that at the time they heard they were actively looking for Macnair to have him arrested. And their word is law, with Fudge, so that's that unless I can actually find some evidence. The more interesting result is that, if rumours are to be believed, some of their own are asking uncomfortable questions, especially Flint, who was Macnair's cousin. The _law_ may have been forced to ignore this, but their own cohorts are unlikely to!"

She paused a bit to reflect on that, then turned to Sirius, "Back to your case, he wanted you pushed through the veil, as - according to him - you were the only one who _escaped_ from Azkaban, while the others were properly released. I told him what Reiter said - there was no list. I was actually hoping he would incriminate himself by admitting his role in the actual selection, because he is not an employee of the ministry in any capacity and has _no_ right to do that. But he's slippery as an eel; he merely went red in the face and walked out".

Sirius settled himself more comfortably in his chair, and gave them all a serious look.

"Dumbledore has my godson somewhere. I am going to ask him in your presence first", indicating Minerva, "and if he doesn't come clean and hand Harry back to me, I will have to sue him. I heard he has sealed the Potters' wills; is that true?"

"Yes, but at that time no one thought it was a big deal. It was clear that the boy-who-lived would be in danger, and hiding him away was something most of us were OK with, and in fact would still be OK with. You'll need a pretty strong case to go against that sentiment from the light side people", said Augusta.

"Well, we shall see", said Sirius, and, after making an appointment with Minerva for 4pm that afternoon, they all dispersed.

* * *

 **1986-02-24 16:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Minerva met Sirius at the main entrance, and led him to the headmaster's office. She had not informed Albus that Sirius was coming, not wanting to give him the chance to make some excuse and disappear. She was surprised at herself, that barely a few hours after seeing those pensieve memories, she had started becoming suspicious enough of Albus to take precautions like this.

Of course, as deputy, she did not have to wait for Dumbledore to permit her to come in, so in she walked, with Sirius right behind. Dumbledore appeared to be in a good mood, but it noticeably dampened when Sirius walked in.

"Albus, I think it is time we took Harry out of those horrible muggles' house now that Sirius has been exonerated", said Minerva. She knew he was technically only pardoned, but she wanted to see what Albus would make of such a statement.

"He was only pardoned, Minerva, not exonerated. There is still a cloud of suspicion about everyone who was released the other day."

"What cloud, Albus? You cast the Fidelius yourself, so you know I was not the secret-keeper!"

"I know you were not the secret-keeper on that day. Since you went around boasting all over the place that you _were_ the secret-keeper, I have to assume they changed their mind later."

Minerva looked at Sirius askance. He explained, "Decoy, Minerva. We wanted them to come after me and leave Peter alone. Too bad we did not know that Peter himself was the traitor."

"So you see Minerva, the suspicion is still there", said Albus.

"Well, Filius and Poppy were with me when you said several very noble things about second chances and bringing them back to the fold or something like that. What better person to start with than Sirius?"

"Giving everyone a second chance is something I am all for, Minerva, and that will happen. But there are some risks - a risk to the saviour of the wizarding world, for example - that are beyond even that noble purpose."

Sirius decided to speak up. "Albus, as his magical godfather, I have the right to raise him. I intend to pick him up tomorrow. Grimmauld Place is clean, and has been made ready for a child. All the dark artefacts have been destroyed too."

"I must ask you to see things from the point of view of what would be best for the wizarding world's safety, Sirius. The saviour of our world must not be put at risk. You will not be able to approach the place without breaking through my wards. I cannot say any more, and I will not. This discussion is at an end."

"No it is not; it has just begun. You must understand, Albus, that I have a responsibility, and I must fulfill it."

Albus was fast losing his temper, which in itself was unusual. He was also beginning to realise just how much Minerva was on Sirius's side, and that was making him lose control like had not happened for decades.

"Sirius, if you persist in this, I will have to take appropriate action to prevent you, upto and including having you sent back to Azkaban. I am that serious about this."

He turned his gaze onto a totally shocked and speechless Minerva. "I repeat, this discussion is at an end. Prof McGonagall, the next time you presume to tell me what is the correct thing to do for anything other than a school matter, I will not be as willing to listen as I have been today."

Sirius and Minerva left quietly. Neither of them so much as nodded goodbye - one was too angry, and the other too shocked _and_ angry, to do so.

* * *

 **1986-02-24 23:00 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

Late that evening, Hobby, in the form of the adult Harry Potter, paid a visit to Grimmauld, popping straight into the kitchen after checking that Sirius was not around.

The muggles and muggle-borns who were rescued from the various dungeons about two weeks ago, were all gone, having recovered as much as they could here, and having their memories fixed up so as not to remember the horrors they went through.

Now Hobby just wanted news of Sirius, and Kreacher dutifully told him everything that had happened today.

"How do you know all this?"

"Master Sirius told me while he was having dinner."

To which Hobby could only stare in wonderment, trying to reconcile the hatred that had existed between then in his time, with what he was seeing here.

Anyway, it was time to up the ante. Things were going too slow, and he had to deal with the most vicious and dangerous of the death-eaters _first_ , while their arrogance and complacency gave him the advantage. As he killed, or rather arranged the deaths of, more and more of them, it would become harder. Best to get the big fish out the way first.

But even before he did that, the Phantom would have to _force_ a little meeting.


	13. Chapter 13: Riding rough-shod

Chapter 13: Riding rough-shod

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-02-25 11:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Press Briefing Room**

The press had been informed of a high-profile lawsuit, and that the head of the Wizengamot would hold a brief press conference at 11am. As such, the press room was full; it had been several days since anything interesting had happened, and "high-profile" was like blood to a shark for them.

Presently, Augusta Longbottom came to the podium, which puzzled some people, but some others were quick to guess why, and a shocked whisper went around the room as those who got it, explained to those who had not.

Sirius was inside the ante-room, standing so that he could see and hear, but not be seen; it would not do to have Madam Longbottom be seen as favouring one side even before the hearings started!

"Quiet down, please, and we can get this done quicker. There won't be any questions being answered - I'll tell you everything I know anyway, and the folks who know more are not here. May as well make it easier on yourselves and on me". She was clearly an old hand at handling the press.

Without waiting much more, she continued. "Lord Sirius Black, having been pardoned and released, has decided he is ready to take up his role as Harry Potter's godfather".

She knew that would get their attention; very few people, it seemed, knew this.

"Yes, he is, apparently, the boy-who-lived's magical godfather. Anyway, Albus Dumbledore has sealed the Potters' wills and placed the boy-who-lived with muggles and warded the place so no witch or wizard can get in. He has also, apparently, refused to give him to Lord Black, so Lord Black has filed suit against the Chief Warlock."

"As such, for the duration that this suit is in progress, I will be the acting Chief Witch. And that is all we have, ladies and gentlemen."

* * *

As the crowd dispersed, one extremely energetic, and much hated, reporter was having a quiet conversation with her photographer, explaining to him where she would be over the next day or three, and where she expected him to be to get the best shots.

Before she could properly complete her instructions and make sure he understood, however, she ... just disappeared!

Her photographer stared at the spot where she was standing, puzzled and confused. However, he was not worried. First, he knew Rita could take care of herself. Second, he didn't really care too much anyway.

* * *

 **1986-02-25 12:00 UTC, dungeons beneath 12, Grimmauld Place**

Rita found herself forced into her beetle form, then summoned into someone's hand and apparated out of a room that she _knew_ was warded against apparation. She was now in a dark room somewhere - a dungeon by the smell of it.

She tried to revert to her human form to get some light, but found she could not. She was stuck as a beetle. Once she realised that, panic started to set in. She looked frantically about for some escape, but the room appeared to be impenetrable. She could not apparate while in her animagus form, and even then she was sure there were wards here.

After a couple of hours, even the prospect of a story that her competitors did not even know about failed to ease her mind; she was now in full-blown panic and buzzing about erratically all over the room.

Suddenly, she was in her human form again. Someone invisible was there. He was not trying to hide his presence, only, it appeared, his identity.

"I trust you are not terribly uncomfortable, Ms Skeeter?"

She spent a few seconds to take a breath and calm down a little. "I've seen better, and I've seen worse. Who are you?"

"For future reference, I am called the Phantom", he said. She made an appropriate gasp, then calmed down again, her reporter's mind taking over. For all intents and purposes, this was an exclusive interview with someone who had done amazing things. Potentially even more terrible if he wished, but amazing!

He was quick to spot, and squash, the excitement in her eyes. "This is not an interview. You will **not** be reporting on this meeting. In fact, from now on you work for me - you write what I tell you to write, you ignore what I tell you to ignore, you stalk people I tell you to stalk, and you ignore people I tell you to ignore. In effect, I control you completely."

"What do I get in return?"

"You get to live, my dear", said the voice smoothly.

"I thought you were great; I really admired you burning down those death-eaters' manors while not harming the women and children. Are you just a common murderer after all?"

"So far, I have only killed one person in a pre-meditated manner: Bellatrix Lestrange", said Hobby. He had no obligation to tell her the truth anyway. "But I do not have any moral or ethical issues in killing people if needed. It's just that I make sure the death is really needed.

I consider you, in your own way, to be as evil as those death-eaters. Actually, worse - if a death-eater attacks someone who is willing to fight, they stand some chance of winning and repelling the attack. With you, they are left outraged and angry, but powerless to actually do anything while their reputation, and often their life, is ruined and their so-called friends abandon them, their business associates look elsewhere, and so on. I have known insects like you, in my time, who would do this even to _children_ , merely because they were famous, and refused an interview with you.

You are, in effect, a law unto yourself, and have been such for some years now, ever since you perfected your animagus form. Therefore, in your case, I would have less than zero guilt about squashing you like a beetle under my foot. As you can see, I am not even being subtle about my threats; I have no reason to be".

Truth be told, Hobby _had_ , briefly (very briefly!) considered reasoning with her and trying to get her co-operation willingly, but realised she had no morals and would turn on him the first chance she got, so there was no point. He'd have to watch and control her anyway, so may as well be direct about it and save time.

"I can go to the aurors for protection; I can report that you threatened me. The minister will help me, I am sure."

"You know that I _forced_ you into your animagus form. Were you able to revert? I am pretty sure you tried.

You see, when someone externally forces the animagus transformation, reverting is _not_ in your control. I could do that, and leave you in that form forever, sitting in a glass jar on my desk. But even more importantly, did you spot that I _apparated_ you out of that room, and do you know what the wards are in there?"

She knew that, and he knew she did. But she was a pure blood, of course, so the "blind spot" was well in place - she had never experienced elf-transport, and had no way of recognising this as such.

She slumped down. Even if he did not kill her outright (she was not sure if she believed his bland statements about his lack of morality or ethics), he could certainly force her into her beetle form and keep her that way forever, effectively ending her life, if not actually doing so.

She had no choice but to agree, and he could see it in her face.

"Here are two lists. The one in green, with Albus Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, and Minister Fudge heading the list, is of people that you will **not** write positively about. Ever. The one in red is of people that you will **not** write about at all, unless it is required as a necessary part of a story about someone in the other list. Even then, you will only write positively about them."

"What if I find something really bad about them? The public has a right to know."

"Sorry, but you've never struck me as one who cares about the truth, so don't start now. If you had cared about the truth _consistently_ , you would not have been in this position today."

"How will you contact me?"

"An elf called Hobby will come by with letters containing instructions, quotes, or - occasionally - entire articles. When I send you an entire article, you will not change a single word of it. Take credit for the article and print it exactly as is. If your editor has a problem, deal with it however you want, but I am holding you responsible. Clear?"

"Yes. Will you let me go now?"

"Memorise those lists; they are not very long and the pattern is fairly clear, except Dumbledore is on the wrong side. I will not have those lists fall into someone's hands."

And she did, and then she found herself in one of the goblin tunnels, which were supposed to be even _more_ protected against apparation. A quiet whisper told her she was free to go; this was just a final demonstration of his powers. "Just imagine being stunned and placed in front of one of those dragons, Miss Skeeter!", saying which the voice left.

Struggling for breath at the sheer power of this Phantom, she waited some time to calm down, turned into her beetle form, and slowly made her way out of Gringotts.

* * *

 **1986-02-27 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot meeting room and gallery**

"This court is in session, Chief Witch the Honorable Madam Longbottom presiding", sang out the usher.

The members had turned out in full force. The press and public viewing galleries were full. This was unprecedented - a sitting Chief Warlock being sued by a Lord had never happened in living memory, if it had happened at all.

Madam Longbottom stood, and explained the facts of the case as she knew them - that Lord Black was Harry Potter's magical godfather, that Dumbledore had himself cast the Fidelius, with Pettigrew as the secret-keeper, that Sirius alone - of all the people released from Azkaban following the minister's other "misguided" (she could not resist adding that, since the Lestrange brothers were now out!) order, and that, most importantly, Crouch had thrown Sirius into Azkaban **without a trial** (she growled out that last bit, while Amelia looked simultaneously approving and angry).

"Each of the parties will get to say their piece, and then we will decide the merits of the case."

Reiter, Sirius's lawyer, stood up, and essentially repeated what Madam Longbottom said. (This made it really clear - if anyone were in doubt - whose side the Chief Witch was on!) He added only that Sirius was supposed to be the decoy secret-keeper, to lead death-eaters away from Pettigrew.

"The idea of using a decoy was my client's, and it is now his single biggest regret in life, due to the way it turned out.

In any case, my client offers proofs - pensieve memories, magical oaths, even veritaserum for the incident with Pettigrew - when called for, as the case proceeds".

Madam Longbottom thanked him, and called Dumbledore, who had - but naturally - decided to represent himself.

Dumbledore stood, and launched a character attack against Sirius - his morals, his womanising, his pranks, including the one where he nearly sent Snape to his death - all intended to make him sound immature and unfit to be a father-figure to the saviour of the wizarding world. He also revealed Sirius was an illegal animagus (Madam Bones interjected, saying, "not any more, he paid the fine and registered yesterday", getting an exasperated expression from Dumbledore, as if she were a student interrupting a lecture).

Then he cast doubts on the secret-keeper issue, saying - as he did in his own office a few days ago - that they may well have switched to Sirius later.

Finally, he said Sirius had murdered Pettigrew and a dozen muggles in broad daylight.

Madam Longbottom gave Reiter the floor again, and, with her permission, he projected Sirius's memory of the confrontation that day, including the arrest by Crouch. He then asked Dumbledore if he knew Pettigrew was an animagus.

"Yes I did - he was a rat. But I did not think it necessary to malign our dead heroes. So was James Potter, and the same goes for him too", said Dumbledore.

"He was a rat in more ways than one", said Sirius from the side, to laughter from the galleries and many, if not most, members.

Reiter also laughed, then he surprised the court by going off on a seeming tangent. "I would like to call Arthur Weasley as a witness."

Once the surprised whispers had died down and Arthur had taken the stage, Reiter asked him, "How often, on average, has Dumbledore visited your house over the last four years?"

"I can't say for sure, but maybe once or twice a month?"

"Do your children like him, or stay away from him?"

"They generally are not bothered. Only Percy - who seems set, even at his age, on working for the Ministry when he graduates - willingly spends time with Albus."

Reiter then pulled a rat out of his pocket. "Do you recognise this rat?"

By now you could see, by the expressions on their faces, who among the rapt audience - members, press, public - were stupid and who were smart. Dumbledore was definitely smart, so he objected. "Objection, irrelevant line of questioning".

Madam Longbottom smacked him down. "Overruled, I can clearly see the connection, and if you cannot, you are either lying or have been pulling the wool over our eyes for decades. Sit down, Dumbledore!"

And now it was _absolutely_ clear whose side she was on.

She looked to Arthur, nodding for him to respond. "It looks like Percy's pet rat, which we lost a few days ago", said Arthur.

"Would you say Dumbledore has seen this rat before?"

"Oh plenty of times!"

"Closely enough to notice it has a missing front toe?"

The audience gasped, the Wizengamot members stirred and the few who were wool-gathering came back to life and paid attention.

"I think so, yes. At least a few times, since the rat was always peeking out of Percy's shirt pocket".

(Hobby was watching all this, of course, and the muggle-raised in him wondered, for the hundredth time, why no one thought it unhygienic; a muggle would barf his breakfast if he saw his son with a rat in his shirt pocket!)

Reiter then threw the rat on the floor, and asked Madam Bones to force him back.

And there, in all his glory, stood Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

After that, the original lawsuit was recessed in favour of giving both Pettigrew _and_ Sirius a proper trial. Dumbledore tried to object to this also, saying this was unnecessary. Madam Longbottom shot him down again, saying "you impugned Lord Black's character; he has a right to clear himself in any way he chooses".

Then Dumbledore tried a different tack. "Since I am not directly involved in those trials, I should be presiding".

"No, you have a conflict of interest. Anyone can see that. Sit down or I will have you thrown out until your case comes back!", thundered Madam Longbottom. _Whoever said possession is nine-tenths of the law, must have based it on the Wizengamot Chief's chair_ , laughed Hobby to himself.

So those two trials went ahead, with the expected results: Sirius was **exonerated** (finally!) of all charges against him, and Pettigrew was sentenced to life in Azkaban, with his order of Merlin of course stripped from him.

Then the original trial restarted, and Reiter took the floor to summarise. "Considering Mr Weasley's testimony, we can only conclude that Dumbledore _knew_ Pettigrew was alive and well, and from that it follows that he might have also known the entire story that was revealed today. In light of his refusal to hand over my client's ward, Mr Harry Potter, to him, we can only conclude that Dumbledore intentionally suppressed all this precisely to prevent a lawsuit like this. In effect, we are saying that his mysterious, unexplained, need to control Mr Potter has also been the cause of my client being incarcerated without a trial."

Then Dumbledore stood, and basically rode rough-shod over the entire wizarding world. Or at least the Wizengamot. He didn't even wait for their judgement - though it was impossible to believe that may have gone his way anyway.

"Whatever I have done, is not for my personal gratification. My reasons are not personal, they are entirely to do with the good of the wizarding world. I am not at liberty to explain this in any more detail; the danger is too great.

Why should you believe me? I would like to think that, as a result of my track record and my services to the wizarding world, my word would have some weight.

In any case, I am refusing to unseal the wills, and I am refusing to hand over Harry Potter. The court may order what it wants, and it is with a heavy heart that I would refuse to comply, as any law-abiding citizen should, but I believe this is one case where I know what the greater good of the wizarding world requires, and I will harden myself to do exactly that, because I consider that my highest responsibility."

 _What a speech! Even Churchill could not have done better_ , thought Hobby.

Skeeter's headline in that evening's Prophet was "Dictator Dumbledore!", with sub-headings "Overrules Wizengamot", and "Kidnaps boy-who-lived, refuses to give him back". The article started with "Dumbledore effectively declares himself a dictator over magical Britain". It then went on to explain what happened in great detail, and - to the surprise of everyone who was in that room - it was completely true, too!

It ended with, "Dumbledore appears to be worse than a normal kidnapper. A normal kidnapper has some demands, and the parent or guardian has the hope that - in the worst case - giving the kidnapper what he wants will get the child back. With Dumbledore, even that does not happen".


	14. Chapter 14: With enemies like these

Chapter 14: With enemies like these...

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-03-01 08:00 UTC, Grunnings board room**

Sirius was not a Black for nothing. The Wizengamot drama with Dumbledore was the day before yesterday. He had spent yesterday investigating Grunnings, and found not only that it was privately owned, with a single owner, but that it's US operations needed both an infusion of operating cash as well as a change in management. This made his day.

So he had Gringotts arrange a meeting with the owner, through their bankers. When they met, they first went through the niceties observed when two men of money meet for the first time. Then they got down to business: Sirius would invest in the US arm, but had one condition: a person of his choice would be appointed as the manager for that unit. That choice was Vernon Dursley. Sirius merely explained that he had heard the man was somewhat abrasive, but he believed that was precisely the kind of man the US market wanted. (Sirius didn't know much about the muggle world in the UK, leave alone the US; he was basically bluffing, and hoping that the offer of an investment would hold the man's attention enough to gloss over this!)

Dursley was called in, and told the good news. For some reason, this investor wanted everything done as soon as possible. They decided that 10th March, Monday, was far enough to get his move organised and close enough to satisfy Lord Black.

At that point, Vernon started to look uncomfortable. It was clear to Sirius, even without being able to read minds, that he was wondering what to do about Harry.

Sirius took Vernon aside, and quietly confunded him to not worry about this, since it would be taken care of.

Then he left. He'd already arranged with the goblins to help speed things up as and when needed, and generally make sure there were no snags.

(Kreacher told Hobby all this when they next met. Hobby was overjoyed. He would have loved to get some revenge on the Dursleys, and thought they had gotten off far too easily, but he decided not to dwell on it. He was just happy that Sirius was so proactive, and that, come the 10th, Harry would be free of the Dursleys for good and be safe with Sirius. He decided to watch over Harry the first few days; somehow he would have to make the time to be here full-time.)

* * *

 **1986-03-03 14:00 UTC, Crouch residence**

Hobby had a very simple plan. Right now, Fudge and Malfoy were in a huddle, trying to figure out how best to take advantage of Dumbledore's behaviour a few days ago. Malfoy and Narcissa were discussing this at lunch; that is how Hobby knew.

Hobby decided he would give them - and a few others in the Ministry - something more interesting to talk about. It was high time the Phantom put in another appearance anyway; the fat cats seem to have forgotten about him already.

He popped into the Crouch residence, found and stunned Winky, stunned Crouch senior, woke up junior and cancelled the imperius on him (using Crouch senior's wand), and stunned him again. Then he turned himself invisible and popped off with Crouch junior.

* * *

 **1986-03-03 14:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

Amelia, Shacklebolt, and Robards barged into the minister's office. Malfoy and Fudge jumped, recovered after a second or two, and let fly.

"How dare you barge in on a private meeting. This is the first time I have seen any of you behave like this, what is the meaning of this?", shouted Fudge.

Amelia was not the kind to be impressed by the likes of Fudge. "Well this is the first time we ever received word that the Phantom would be here. He apparently doesn't like your ilk, Malfoy, so perhaps you should leave; why give him a chance?", she taunted.

Malfoy gave her a dark look. "So where is this Phantom", he sneered.

At that precise moment, Hobby - invisible - popped in with Crouch junior to just outside the minister's door. He opened the door, shoved Crouch junior in, then quickly moved off to a corner to watch.

* * *

 **1986-03-04 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot meeting room**

For the second time in a week, the room was packed. And for the second time in a week, a death-eater that was thought to be dead, was discovered to be alive.

Junior was a walking talking pile of abusive pureblood arrogance - in fact his language would have given any public latrine an inferiority complex. He had to be repeatedly silenced just so that people could _think_.

For a lot of others, though, it was the fate of Crouch senior that was more interesting. Here was a man who had been the hard-light's voice (as opposed to the soft-light, like the Weasleys, who much preferred Dumbledore). He was a hard man, honest to the core - it seemed! - and then it turned out he had helped his own son escape from Azkaban?

Unfortunately, Dumbledore was back as the Chief Warlock, since this case had no conflict of interest for him. He started the questioning.

"Barty Crouch junior, you have been found guilty of having escaped Azkaban after having been lawfully sentenced and placed there. How do you plead?"

Junior was, of course, not yet fully recovered, although he was well on the way. He did not know about Fudge's "release all death-eaters" fiasco, so he simply pleaded guilty. However, Malfoy was having none of that. "Chief Warlock, I must register my objection to this. His father needs to be tried for doing this. As for Mr Crouch junior, consider that if he had stayed in prison, he would have been released last month when we discovered what an injustice had been visited upon them."

There was a huge debate about this, but unfortunately, Malfoy won, mainly because Fudge had some discretionary powers and decided Malfoy's logic was sound (though, as before, it was really the sound of Malfoy's galleons!)

So Crouch junior walked free, just like the Lestrange brothers. In fact, even better, because they - along with the others released in mid-January - were still in St. Mungos, recovering. He was actually out on the streets, free as a bird.

And the lingering after-effects of being stunned and mind-controlled had left, leaving just anger to mix with the malice he had always been made of.

* * *

Hobby decided enough was enough. The root cause, both times, was Malfoy. It would be very simple to get rid of him - he could even do it himself (and let's face it, even one vision of Malfoy's torture victims would clear away any feelings of guilt).

But he would lose his source of _information_. Malfoy did not keep any secrets from his wife (as far as Hobby could see), and discussed everything with her, and she would come up with ideas on how to deal with the problem.

This knowledge was something that could not easily be replaced, and he decided not to mess with that unless something really bad happened.

He'd have to eliminate Crouch junior, and the two Lestranges, at least. The sooner the better.

He started making plans.

* * *

Curiously, Malfoy did not say a word in favour of Crouch senior at his trial for springing his son and keeping him under the imperius. They gave him 25 years in Azkaban, but Reiter (Sirius's lawyer) jumped up like a rabbit.

"Chief Warlock, if the sentence for escaping Azkaban - as I understand were the orders served on my client by Minister Fudge - is to be put through the veil, regardless of who you are, then any person who helps someone escape has committed a bigger crime. And when that person is widely believed to be a paragon of virtue, head of the DMLE at one point, then he **must** be held to a higher standard.

Therefore I demand that Crouch senior _must_ be sent through the veil.

Let me also remind people that Crouch did not even give my client a trial. What we are doing here is nothing like what he has done. We have not yet dropped our kidnapping case against the ministry, but since one of the two architects of my client's illegal incarceration is Crouch, we will drop the case if he is sent through the veil right now."

People were a lot more blood-thirsty here than Hobby remembered. He wasn't sure if he had changed something - perhaps indirectly it was him. The more direct cause, he thought, must surely be the release of all those death-eaters. That really seemed to have hardened a lot of attitudes.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was having none of this; he was all "mercy and second chances". "Mr Reiter, we need to show ourselves to be better than them; there is no need to indulge in petty revenge. What is past is past, please forget it and move on."

"Chief Warlock, this is not about mercy or second chances. This is simply about justice. He has sown, so he should reap.

I leave it to the Ministry if our lawsuit against it should continue or be pulled back."

Really, when you put it like that, there was no option. Reiter could easily pull several inconvenient truths, like rabbits out of a muggle magician's hat, in that trial. The less time Reiter spent in court, the better for all concerned. (Except Reiter's clients of course!)

And so Crouch senior, protesting vehemently about his innocence (how do people do that with a straight face, after all is said and done?) was pushed through the veil.

* * *

 **1986-03-05 15:00 UTC, St. Mungo's**

"Name please", said the bored voice, without even looking up.

"Barty Crouch, junior". _Then again, I can probably skip the 'junior' now_ , he reflected.

"Visiting whom?"

"Rudolphus Lestrange and his brother".

She gave him a badge of some kind to pin to his short pocket, saying, "Ward 1, room 12; they appear to be in the same room".

Crouch mumbled something that could, with some imagination, pass for "thanks". His minuscule quota of being nice had been exhausted long ago, and he was itching to lash out with a crucio or two.

 _Hmm, there's a thought... aren't they also right here?_ He resolved to find out where they were and see if they could have a... _reunion_ , he smirked to himself.

Now, while it was assumed that the Lestrange brothers were in St Mungo's recovering, only half of that statement was true now. They were indeed still in Mungo's, but they had already recovered enough to go home. They had decided to bide their time for a little while, pretending to still be having some problem or other, so that they could see what they could dig up, catch up on four years of news and events, figure out who could be trusted and who had sold out, etc. The best place for this appeared to be the hospital itself, both because there were several of their own comrades here, as well as because, when not in the middle of a stressful medical procedure, medical staff _loved_ to gossip. Or so it seemed anyway.

So when Crouch walked in to their room, expecting a couple of invalids, he actually found that they were in decent shape, and the three were overjoyed to be together again. It was also amazing how quickly they all realised they were thinking of the same thing: we need to make a statement of some kind. The only question was, how soon, how visible, and so on. Rabastan was inclined to be a little careful, Rudolphus was a little more enthusiastic, and Barty was ready to go right _now_.

They spent a few minutes mourning Bella, and all agreed that if she were there, there would be no question of waiting; she would go straight up to the Janus Thickey ward and finish the job.

At this point Crouch said he _had_ been considering just that while he was walking up to their ward.

This restarted the debate, and pretty soon they had rabble-roused each other to a high fervour. High enough that they all _did_ go straight to the Janus Thickey ward.

Unfortunately, none of them were in great shape, and their reaction times weren't the best. Still, they could have easily taken down the token auror presence on the ward entry, if they had stuck to normal spells. But Crouch was, as we have already stated, frustrated and itching to lash out, so he _started_ with an unforgivable.

The ward locked down, four more aurors portkey-ed in right behind them and that was that.

* * *

Hobby, when he found out about this later, was aghast! He went straight to Nick and Penny.

"I failed! I did not protect the Longbottoms well enough."

"Why do you say that? I would have thought you'd be happy Crouch and company got caught without your involvement!"

"That's not the point. I swore I would not give them even a first chance, and then this happens? I have failed! Maybe I should rethink my plans and just go all Rambo on them - all of them - and be done".

Nick looked at him seriously. "Well, Hobby, you always had that choice, but you chose not to take it. Would you like to remind yourself why?"

Hobby sighed. "Yes yes, I know. Drawing too much attention may magnify any slip ups I make, and in the worst case may directly impact Harry himself".

"But", he continued, "the fact that nothing actually happened to them is just luck; if that moron Crouch had not used an unforgivable, they would have done a lot more damage."

Nick was not seeing it as a failure. Or at least, he was not going to say so. "Hobby, is this part of the blaming yourself for everything that comes from the Harry side of you?"

"I suspect the Dobby part also has some of that, but mainly Harry I guess."

"Look, stop this funk. First, ward the ward!", Penny said brightly, as if she had invented the pun.

It was a measure of how deep Hobby's funk went that he could only manage a weak smile.

"Next, make a list of who else you think are targets or could be targets. Individual families: Tonks, Weasleys, Bones, Longbottoms, Lovegoods, etc. Groups: muggle-borns like the Creeveys. Then buildings: St. Mungos, and you said he hit his old orphanage last time - ward the whole area. Actually, scratch that; I'll get the goblins to do those; it may be too much for one person. And finally, special cases, like Luna's mother."

Hobby had started smiling, and Penny was happy to see that, but she couldn't quite understand specifically what she had said to make him smile.

"You remind me so much of Hermione - making lists is something that is so _her_!"

That lifted his mood quite a bit. He may be an elf now, and incapable of _romantic_ feelings towards humans, and anyway this Hermione was not _his_ Hermione. But he could at least remember his Hermione affectionately, feel good about it, and - when the time came - treat this Hermione with at least an avuncular form of love.

* * *

 **1986-03-06 07:00 UTC, Ministry of magic, Minister's office**

For the second time in less than a month, the pleasing tones of Minister Fudge screaming his guts out filled the halls of the Ministry. And as before, about three-quarters of the people who heard him were hoping he had been hurt in some permanent way.

This time, Shacklebolt and Bones rushed in. And Shacklebolt went straight to the foreheads of the three dead wizards to see if something was written.

Nothing was, though. All there was, was a note, clutched in Crouch's hand, saying "wait for the evening edition of the Prophet. Sincerely, the Phantom".

Well that wasn't going to go down too well. Ministers and heads of the DMLE and auror offices don't like to get their news from the papers; they'd rather it was the other way around.

Bones, meanwhile, ordered Shack and Terrill (a young auror, just joined), to investigate exactly how **three** under-trials, held in the most secure holding cells they had, guarded with at least two aurors always on duty, were spirited away, killed, and then dumped on the Minister's desk.

(Privately, she didn't care. These people had dared to try and kill Augusta's son and daughter-in-law, and whoever culled them from the herd deserved an award of some kind. She was very surprised that she could think like this - siding with vigilantes! - but in a world where all the political advantages seemed to tilt toward the bad guys, she would take what she could get!)

* * *

 **1986-03-06 08:00 UTC, Ministry of magic, Minister's office**

And, as if on cue, Malfoy was there by 8am, making a lot of noise about the Lestranges, and how eliminating an old family completely was apparently worth the veil. He was demanding, loudly and animatedly, that Bones should _immediately_ do something and capture this Phantom.

Bones was having the time of her life. She sneered at him and said, "Malfoy, I think you are top of his list now, but if it makes you feel any better, he thinks you're more valuable alive than dead. I'm not sure why, maybe it's the comedy value of watching you go apoplectic with rage every time he kills one of your death-eater buddies, or destroys something of yours."

Malfoy was incensed. _She has been taking pot-shots at me since her failed attempt to arrest Black_ , he thought.

And while the things she said that day were are least rooted in advice, this one was a pure taunt with no redeeming value, and seemed to have no other purpose than to laugh at him.

Well, it's funny how the most stoic Slytherin has a weak spot that breaks down their stoicism; in Malfoy's case that was being laughed at.

And he made his first, big, mistake. A really big one.

He pulled his wand on Amelia.

* * *

Now, the DMLE was an interesting organisation. Amelia Bones was the head, but she had risen from the ranks and considered herself perfectly able to defend herself. But the ranks loved her so much - taking over as she did after Crouch (internal code name: **Grouch** ) - that the aurors, by unwritten agreement, had decided there would always be someone with her. Despite her orders saying she did _not_ need a bodyguard.

This time it was Robards.

Robards, standing right next to Bones, fired off an exploding hex at Malfoy's wrist, then followed it up with a cauterising spell. Well, the first was standard procedure, the second was only required by the auror corps' field manual if the recipient of the exploding hex was in danger of bleeding out before he or she could be taken to St. Mungo's.

That was clearly not the case here, but Robards claimed he got confused and panicked, and there was nothing anyone could really do about that.

(The few people who knew that the last time Robards had panicked was - well, never, actually! - got a big laugh out of this. By a complete coincidence, utterly unrelated to this appalling tragedy, Bones stood drinks that evening for anyone on the auror force who could make it to the pub they all frequented.)

* * *

 **1986-03-06 17:00 UTC, anywhere in magical UK**

Witches and wizards were staring dumb-struck at their newspaper. Never had they seen something so... frank and unvarnished! Rita Skeeter's lead article was simply a letter from the Phantom, printed as-is, no editing (or editorialising!) It read,

 _I am sorry to say that things have not changed much. Yes, the six whose manors were burnt down have stopped imprisoning and torturing muggles and muggle-born, but now I am thinking - perhaps I was too specific?_

 _Let's recap. Lucius Malfoy gets his buddy Fudge to release a dozen death-eater chums, and before they're supposed to be recovered, two of them start killing people again!_

 _Lucius Malfoy argues that someone who was sprung from Azkaban should be allowed to go free, and he joins the above-mentioned two criminals._

 _Finally, the only person Lucius Malfoy tries to argue is a genuine death-eater, and tries to put him through the veil, Sirius Black, turns out to be innocent of everything, as conclusively proven in public._

 _I already told you I will be taking the law into my own hands, and I explained why. Fudge letting Crouch junior go was the absolute last straw, and I am upping the ante._

 _So here's the deal: any one with a dark mark on his arm so much as sneezes in the direction of someone who does not have one, I will kill him, any other death-eater with him at the time I find him,_ _ **plus**_ _Lucius, Narcissa, and Fudge. Why Narcissa, you might ask? Because she is the one who tells him what to do, gives him ideas, and works out how best to use a given situation to their advantage!_

 _Again, please note what I said carefully: if even ONE death eater does something nasty to someone I consider innocent, these three will_ _ **also**_ _die!_

 _Oh and Madam Bones, I am still waiting for you to kick that corrupt bastard out and become minister, so I can stop doing all this!_

 _The Phantom._

 _PS: Malfoy: I just found out you tried to curse the head of the DMLE right in front of the Minister. I'll let that one go, because it happened before you got this letter. Oh and could you please tell Cissy Bella is waiting for someone to make a wrong move so she can join her!_

The fact that he had permanently lost his wand hand was not mentioned.


	15. Chapter 15: Serious help for Sirius

Chapter 15: Serious help for Sirius

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

* * *

 **1986-03-09 23:30 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

"Kreacher, do you have some time?"

"Yes Master Harry, what can Kreacher do for you?"

"Well, you know that young Harry will be here tomorrow morning, sometime before lunch, right? I want you to prepare his room as soon as Sirius leaves to go pick up Harry. Put these clothes in his room; they are his size but they also have some re-sizing charms."

"Yes master Harry; I will do that, no problem". _His language is changing pretty fast!_ , thought Harry.

"He will also need these potions. Penny made them for him, when I told her exactly what kind of nutrition (i.e., none!) he had had till now. She's ready to dote on him even if she has never met him - they've decided they will visit just after lunch, introduce themselves, and help Sirius put this place under the Fidelius".

"I will do that master Harry."

"And finally, when he comes here he will probably be starving; I don't think his aunt would have given him breakfast. Here is a list of his favourite foods, as near as I can remember at that age, and here is a list of food he does not like."

"Oh that is wonderful Master Harry; Kreacher will use these lists starting from breakfast tomorrow."

"OK thank you Kreacher; see you tomorrow. You won't be able to see me, but I will be here, invisibly, to make sure he is fine and to try and interpret his thoughts. At present, any time he has tried to spend with others he has been shunned, so he has become very private, silent, and untrusting. You will need to pull him out of that, and I will help you. And we can both help Sirius too. And don't forget you have to teach him about the magical world also, as we discussed a few days ago".

"Yes master Harry."

* * *

 **1986-03-10 09:30 UTC, Heathrow airport, Terminal 1, Executive Lounge**

Sirius waited in the airport for the family of four to arrive. When he spotted them, he was initially appalled at how Harry looked. He wanted to cancel the whole deal and have Dursley arrested instead.

But at the same time, he knew he had much, much, bigger fish to fry. So he contented himself with taking Dursley aside.

Before he could speak, Vernon started. "Lord Black, thank you again for this opportunity. You are rumoured to have invested heavily in the US operation, and I will not let you or Grunnings down", Vernon said in a disgustingly obsequious manner.

"I do not care about Grunnings", said Sirius. "What I invested is less than a tenth of a percent of my fortune". He paused for Vernon to process that and acquire a puzzled look on his face.

"My interest in this is solely to get my godson back". That got Vernon's attention. He may be slow in many things, but taking the last few sentences and coming up with "the freak has a filthy rich godfather!" was but a few milliseconds for him. But he did not know what to say, so he just gaped.

"Let me give you a serious warning, Dursley", said Sirius in a low, threatening, voice. "Do not, **ever** , come back to the UK. Do not let Petunia come back, nor your fat brat. If I ever see or hear that you are back, I will take revenge on your treatment of my godson. With interest. I dare say you will not survive the experience, nor would your wife and son. I am the head of one of the darkest, cruelest, pureblood families in the wizarding world, and I am itching to mete out suitable punishment".

He took Harry by the hand, told him he was no longer going to live with the Dursleys but with him, and left the Dursleys in the airport. There wasn't a single goodbye from any of the three to Harry, nor the other way around.

Harry, for his part, didn't seem to react at all. Sirius was not an expert in child psychology, but if you grew up with someone from the age of 2 to 5, and then were taken away from them by a stranger, you'd be expected to make some noise about it. Harry was eerily, scarily, silent.

* * *

 **1986-03-10 09:40 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

Kreacher opened the door on Sirius's knock. "Master Sirius, Master Harry, welcome home!"

This shook Sirius, but it shook Hobby even more. He had followed them, invisibly of course, and was watching Harry closely, trying to think how he would have reacted to this at that age, as the best way of predicting how things would go.

But Kreacher's words really shocked him. It seems that treating him right made an even bigger difference than anyone - even he (or Hermione, bless her hat-knitting-heart) - could have imagined.

Harry was scared stiff, but worse, he was scared of showing he was scared, leave alone saying anything. Life had not been very good, and he had no idea what to expect from these strange people who had taken him from the Dursleys, especially if they found him unsuitable in some way.

"Come on, Harry, let's get something to eat first", said Sirius. "Krea-"

"Kreacher has breakfast ready for master Harry, master Sirius", said Kreacher.

"Harry, would you like to go eat something? I'm sure you're hungry."

Harry just nodded. He had not said one single word yet. So they went to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

Kreacher first took out a potion vial, and said "Master Harry must take this before breakfast, and these two after breakfast", putting two more vials on a side table.

To say Sirius was stunned was an understatement. He looked at the potion, and it appeared to be a digestive potion, and the other two nutrition potions.

"Where did you get these, Kreacher?"

"Mistress Penny gave them and said the boy-who-lived would need them, master Sirius". Which wasn't really an answer, because he wouldn't say who this mysterious Mistress Penny was, except that she and Master Nick would be along in the afternoon.

Naturally, what really bothered Sirius was Kreacher's apparent independence - since when did house-elves invite people to the house, especially people the master did not even know? Not to mention the potions thing!

Kreacher served Harry baked potatoes with cheese, and bacon sandwiches made with brown bread. Harry took one look and his face lit up, then fell immediately. (Hobby, invisible and watching from a corner, knew what was going on - he was sure he would not be allowed to eat it all. In fact, he would be wondering why the plate was in front of him.)

"Harry, do you like baked potatoes and bacon sandwiches?"

Finally, _finally_ , Harry said something. "Yes."

"Well then, dig in. If you want more, just ask Kreacher and he will serve you more."

Harry had an incredulous look on his face, but started to eat. After a while, when he had had his fill, he looked up at Kreacher, and said "thank you, that is my favourite, thank you so much!"

* * *

 **1986-03-10 10:30 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

"Master Harry, Kreacher will now show you to your room."

Well, the house was clean of dark artifacts and all the rooms were in good shape, so Sirius had planned on showing Harry a few rooms and telling him to take his pick. He was, therefore, surprised at what Kreacher said - again, since when did house-elves decide these things? - but decided to play along for now. Maybe this Mistress Penny would have some answers.

Kreacher led them to the biggest room on the second floor, directly above Sirius's room in fact. The room was decorated in pale blue, with violet edging at the bottom. It had all the usual stuff of course, like bed, dresser, wardrobe, etc., but most importantly, it had a small bookshelf on one side.

On this bookshelf were two sets of books. One set of books were muggle children's books that Dudley had been gifted, which Harry had been forbidden to touch. Harry could only watch wistfully as Dudley painfully read the cover, then tossed the book aside, never to look at it again, and yet he, Harry, was not allowed to read it.

"These are the books Dudley would not let me read", said Harry in a shocked, awed, whisper.

Kreacher looked at him with a proud expression on his face, then pointed out the other half to him. "Master Harry, you do not know this yet, but magic is real. You are a wizard, and wizard children read these books as they grow up".

Sirius was rapidly coming to the conclusion that, somehow, Kreacher had done more for Harry than Sirius. Seriously, other than foot the bill for sending the Dursleys off to the US, he hadn't done anything else!

But for now, there was a very confused young lad standing there, shocked at the idea of magic. Time to help Harry understand the magical world, and maybe one or two of those books ( _Penny again?_ ) would help.

* * *

 **1986-03-10 14:00 UTC, 12, Grimmauld Place**

Sirius and Harry were in the living room, where Sirius was showing Harry some wizarding toys, explaining magical beasts.

About half-way through an explanation of hippogriffs, the door opened, and Kreacher bowed two visitors in. Then he stood at attention (it seemed) and said "Master Sirius, this is Master Nick and Mistress Penny".

Although they looked kind and friendly, Sirius was not very pleased that Kreacher had brought people right into the house without his permission. He would have to deal with this later, but right now, merely saying "Nick and Penny" didn't cut it. Fortunately, the visitors also seemed to realise this.

"Lord Black, my name is Nicholas Flamel, and this is my wife, Perenelle", said Nick simply.

Sirius fell back onto the chair he had just stood from. He had a lot of mixed emotions - anger and annoyance at Kreacher, awe at meeting the oldest living humans, confusion about why they would visit him ( _you idiot, it's not you they're here for, it's Harry_ , a voice said in the back of his mind).

But all these mixed emotions were quickly chased away by a warm and wonderful feeling of happiness. Because the way he fell back was apparently quite comical, and Harry was giggling, almost laughing. Not loudly or anything like that, to be sure, but it still felt good to finally, _finally_ , see him act like a child.

* * *

Anyway, after sitting down and having cups of tea served to them by Kreacher, they explained why they were here. Naturally they could not speak of Hobby, but they didn't need to. And while they tried their best not to lie outright, they would not worry too much if a few misdirections were needed. Telling the truth all the time was overrated anyway!

"You are obviously surprised to see us. The short explanation is that we also are not happy with a certain meddling old coot with too many middle names", said Nick.

"We are not at liberty to tell you everything we know - much of it is not our secret to share. There are other forces involved whose mission is to make sure that Harry has a happy and healthy childhood, and as normal as possible an adulthood. We are all on your side, or rather, his side, which - I am glad to see in your face - is the same as being on your side", continued Penny.

Nick took up the explanation again. "We are in touch with someone who... well one way to look at it might be that they have a bit of the seer in them and know many things that are in the future. We have been asked not to reveal their identity or presence to you, nor even the reasons why that is so. But this person has nothing but Harry's well-being in mind."

"After all", smirked Penny, "he got Harry's godfather out of prison!"

"The 'Phantom'?", asked Sirius, surprised, but only for a moment. It was obvious, in hindsight.

He looked at Kreacher, and saw that he was smirking too. Clearly he knew all this, so he asked him, "Kreacher, has this person that Mr Flamel speaks of, been here?"

"Yes master Sirius. He brought the potions that Mistress Penny made for Master Harry. He also chose the colours in master Harry's room, brought the books and the toys, and told me what Master Harry's favourite foods are".

"I see. What else am I allowed to know about him?", asked Sirius, with a trace of petulance.

"Lord Black, there's not a lot more to tell, I'm afraid. Also, you must understand that you are the only person who is _allowed_ to know of even his existence, because you are, for now, the only person who truly cares for Harry and loves him. Other than you, only Kreacher and we know about this."

Sirius latched on to the "for now". It was obvious that he loved Harry and it was a happy thought that there would be more love in his life, but he had to ask: "there will be others who care for Harry as much as I do?"

"Yes, at least two more. But one needs to be traced, and the other hasn't met him yet", said Penny with a grin. Then she changed gears. "Please, let us not talk about this right now; there's time enough for that. Our first priority is Dumbledore".

"What of Dumbledore?"

"You only know that he warded 4 Privet Drive against all wizards and witches. What you do not know is that he also put up wards to monitor that place. One ward warned him if Harry was away from the house more than two hours, but has been recently adjusted to 8 hours when he started school a few months ago. In a couple of hours that ward will go off, he will investigate, and eventually make his way here. Are you prepared to handle him?"

By himself, Sirius may have. But he could not afford to risk Harry in any manner. So he said, "not right now. What do you suggest I do?"

"Well, I could do the Fidelius for you; takes only ten minutes, easy to get it done long before 4pm. With you as the secret-keeper this time. No decoys!", grinned Nick.

Sirius made a half-laughing, half-barking, sound in agreement.

Harry heard that sound and became very quiet and thoughtful. When the others noticed, he hesitantly offered an explanation, afraid of what they would say. "Umm, do you... I mean... when I was really small, I think we had a dog..."

Sirius immediately turned into his animagus form. Harry stared, shocked, but he didn't seem to be afraid of this dog that was three times his size. Instead, he said, "pafoo?", and hesitantly approached him, then just gave up and simply jumped on him!

* * *

Later, after Harry, tired from the excitement of the day so far, had been put to bed for a late afternoon nap, Sirius sat down with the Flamels to discuss something that was mildly bothering him.

"This 'Phantom' you met, what kind of a person is he? I'll admit he's only killed real bad guys so far, and it never worried me what his agenda was, but now I am wondering. Because, you see, I'd never thought my cousin Cissy was _that_ bad as to deserve a summary execution. Malfoy and Fudge - sure; I'd do it myself if I could get away with it, but Cissy I draw the line at."

"Are you concerned because the Phantom is threatening someone you genuinely consider to be less guilty, or perhaps guilty only by association, or does this stem from the fact that it is your cousin?"

"Bella was my cousin too", said Sirius simply.

"Aah yes of course; I had forgotten. Forgive me. To answer your question, Cissy may not be guilty in _action_ , but she is the brains behind a lot of Malfoy's scheming; without her, Malfoy would be little more than a strutting peacock".

"How do you know this? I have seen no evidence of this", said Sirius. His vague memories of the couple were that it was a typical pureblood marriage - the wife subservient to the husband. It was hard to imagine Cissy giving ideas (or orders, even?) to Lucius.

Nick, for his part, did not really know how to answer that. He could not reveal the Hobby/Dobby connection without risking everything that Hobby wanted to keep secret. He figured a half-truth would suffice.

"I assure you it is true, though I am not at liberty to reveal exactly how we know. Let's just say we have a way to monitor their meal-time conversations and leave it at that". _Best to let him think it was a spying device or charm of some kind_ , he reasoned.

"Sirius, you haven't known us long enough, but I sense that you trust me and Penny, if only because we who have lived six centuries have clearly no axe to grind in all this, and you can also see we are coming to love little Harry".

Sirius nodded.

"Well, take it from us. The 'Phantom' won't do anything totally unjust. To be honest, I think the only ones he was absolutely going to go after, in an unfair, one-sided, manner if needed, were Bella, and one other. The rest... well the rest happened only after they did something."

Penny continued the narration. "We think he's always been in two minds about this. He started out with a vague plan to kill them all, because of what the seer had said they would do later - and it must have been truly horrific for him to think that way, because behind all this he is a very gentle soul. But I don't think he will kill more than a couple of them in cold blood, for two reasons".

He took a breath. "FIrst, I doubt he has the stomach to do that. And second, he does not want to draw too much attention to himself. If really, really investigated, with the full might of the wizarding world's best, he would end up implicating someone who is truly innocent and has no clue about all this. He does not want to risk that - the wizarding world being the crazy place it is, that innocent would suffer the consequences of his actions".

"Why would an innocent suffer? And who is this innocent person?"

"Your naivete is quite misplaced Sirius, especially after what happened to you. Get off your high horse and smell the coffee". Nick was mixing metaphors, which meant he was slightly agitated. He had also side-stepped the question of just who that innocent was.

"Anyway", he continued. "He will not do anything to most of them as long as they stay clean".

"Which, unfortunately, many of them don't know how to. Hence the very public threats. If he were here, I'd wager he'd say that he'd sooner lose the faith of Sirius Black than see one more muggleborn raped and tortured. Did you know that until he threatened to kill their families, several of these so-called upstanding citizens had a stream of muggle girls in their dungeons? Girls whose only escape from there was insanity, then death?"

"And frankly, I suspect your respect means less to him than the fact that everyone who would have been a risk to the Longbottoms are now gone", said Penny. "Please do not doubt him. He will still help you in everything related to Harry, but any chance you ever had of knowing him as an individual would be truly gone if you appear to be against him. Trust me, we know him, and he is a wonderful being, and he is really trying to help."

Sirius just sat there numbly. This couldn't all be because of a seer's visions; they weren't supposed to be that specific. Something else was going on here, but damned if he knew what that was.

* * *

 **1986-03-10 18:00 UTC, 4, Privet Drive**

Dumbledore apparated into the front yard of 4 Privet Drive. The ward warning him of Harry being away for more than 8 hours had been going for some time, but he had ignored it. He knew that sometimes schools had special events that may take a bit longer to finish, and it had happened a couple of times that the boy came back home around 5pm.

By 6pm, however, he could no longer ignore it. He first went to the school, just to make sure, and found no sign of the boy; in fact no sign of anyone. Clearly an ordinary day, and everyone had left long ago.

Then he went to the house.

The house was empty. Not just empty of people, it was empty of everything that was not part of the building itself. Even the electricity, it seemed, had been turned off.

He hurriedly transformed his clothes into something more palatable to muggles, and knocked on the neighbours' door.

"Good evening. I wanted to visit an old friend of mine, Vernon Dursley, who used to live here the last time we met. But he and his family seem to have left; would you know by any chance where they went?"

"I'm sorry, I don't. It appeared to be on the cards for a few days but they did not discuss details. Perhaps the real estate agent" - here he pointed to a small sign out in front - "could tell you more?"

Dumbledore tried to read the facts from the man's mind, but he got essentially the same thing. The sign for the agent indicated an office a couple of streets away, in fact pretty close to where Mrs Figg lived, so Dumbledore walked in that direction until he was out of sight of the neighbour. Then, having looked around to make sure no one else was watching, he apparated to Mrs Figg's (completely unmindful, or uncaring, of invading her personal space without so much as an apology!), and from there he walked to the real estate office.

"Hello, I am looking for the forwarding address of a friend of mine, whom I had lost contact with some months ago, Vernon Dursley, who used to live at #4, Privet Drive. Since you are taking care of selling the house, I thought you might have a forwarding address for him."

"We do not; we were contacted through his lawyers."

"Could you tell me who those lawyers are?"

"We were told not to, unless it was a law-enforcement matter. Sorry!"

Dumbledore merely stared at him, looking cleanly into his eyes. Then he fell backward, knocking his head hard on the ground. A few minutes later, he was woken up by a bucket of water being poured on him, and the apparently very concerned agent was asking if he was OK.

Dumbledore made some appropriate noises and left. He had no idea what had happened to lay him low like that. Of course, he had never tried to read a goblin's mind (even one disguised as a human), so it was a fair bet that he would not have recognised the symptoms!


	16. Chapter 16: A higher responsibility

Chapter 16: A higher responsibility

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

* * *

 **1986-03-11 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

"Ah, Cornelius, good morning! And how are you today?"

Dumbledore's false cheer grated on even the politician (quite unaware that he had the same effect on others, and far more often!)

"Good morning Albus, what brings you to my office?"

Dumbledore settled himself down, conjured some tea for himself and his host, seeing that his host was either ignoring the niceties or was too distracted to care, then started.

"Well, Cornelius, it appears that Harry Potter has been kidnapped from his muggle aunt's house".

A bigger bombshell could not have burst on Fudge! It had been less than a week since Malfoy's "accident" in his office, and, apart from that highly disrespectful letter by the so-called 'Phantom', there had only been a few minor crises - a shortage of tea bags in the DMLE's pantry area, a water leak in one of the bathrooms on the second floor - and he had been proud to have handled them without calling on his old friend Lucius.

In time, he hoped he would be able to handle bigger issues, maybe even take some decisions himself.

But this was too much. Way too much to be dropped in his lap. Why did the fates hate him so? He was sure Bones would have handled this with aplomb, which again reminded him of that blasted letter last week. That was not a good place to go, for the sake of his ulcers; he had to regain control.

Or at least get help.

So he did the only thing he knew. He floo-called Malfoy.

* * *

Malfoy was a sight. His wand hand was cut off at the wrist, neatly and cleanly, and cauterised so it could not be repaired magically. He was considering a prosthetic, but there weren't any that also looked good, for some reason ( _I may end up looking like Moody_ , he shuddered).

Anyway, he was clearly not in the best of moods - some people can feel a bad day looming, or even a bad month or year; Malfoy could see a bad _life_ ahead. At least, until he could retrain himself to use his left hand.

Meanwhile, he attempted to plaster at least a neutral expression on his face when he floo-ed in. To his credit, only when you looked closely could you see he was not in good shape.

"What can I do for you Cornelius?"

"Well, Lucius, Albus thinks the boy-who-lived has been kidnapped. Clearly it is Black who must have done this, so we must convene a Wizengamot meeting immediately and force him to give the boy back."

Lucius wondered why Fudge cared. What was it to him anyway? How did it benefit him to help Dumbledore? The only point of reference was Black - they all hated him, and he hated all of them. _The enemy of my enemy, and all that..._ , he mused.

"Well, we should do that. Why don't you call for a meeting at 4pm today, but send out the notice only at 3pm. Meanwhile, we will each contact those members whom we are sure of, and inform them in advance."

Dumbledore had the grace to feel a wee bit unclean on hearing this - after all, many Wizengamot proposals had been unfairly passed into law by tactics similar to this, and he had railed against the practice many a time. But needs must when the devil drives, as the saying goes. _I just hope I am not being driven_ _ **to**_ _the devil_ , he said to himself.

"Oh, and send the notice to Black only at 3:45", said Lucius before he went back home to make a few calls.

* * *

 **1986-03-11 16:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot meeting room**

Sirius Black walked in to the meeting room at 3:55pm, barely ten minutes after he had received the meeting notice. Of course he had known about the meeting already; Nick had sent word well before lunch that Dumbledore was planning something to get Harry back. How Nick had found out, Sirius never knew, but he had also found out that - shockingly - Dumbledore and Malfoy were seeing eye to eye on something. Like Lucius wondering about Fudge, he quickly realised that the common enemy was he himself, and that if he lost any of these battles, it would immediately affect Harry.

He had therefore contacted Madam Longbottom, Amelia, and then anyone else whom he felt both Lucius and Dumbledore would _not_ warn in advance, telling them about the underhanded trick to prevent them from coming. Most were convinced and prepared for the session, some refused to believe that Lucius and Dumbledore were together on anything. _Oh well, that's life_.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore, Malfoy, and Fudge were aghast at seeing Sirius. Fudge did not even have the presence of mind to mask his emotions, and nearly asked Sirius how he knew about the meeting, but was stopped in time by Malfoy.

Worse, their plan to have Dumbledore preside were blown to dust when Madam Longbottom walked in. Dumbledore was already sitting in the seat allocated to the head of the Wizengamot - she glared at him and told him to get off, or she would call for a **Serious Protocol Breach** action against him.

Dumbledore got off in a hurry, cursing his luck.

(Hobby, again watching invisibly, wondered what a "Serious Protocol Breach action" was. He could almost hear the capital letters in Madam Longbottom's voice when she mentioned it, and it seemed to spook Dumbledore quite a bit. He'd have to read up on Wizengamot protocols later. _Or just ask Penny, I guess_ , he smiled to himself!)

Pretty soon after, people settled down, and the proceedings started.

"Quiet down everyone. We will start now. This hearing has been **improperly** called, without sufficient notice to all members, by Dumbledore and Fudge."

 _Shit, this is not going well_ , thought Dumbledore. But it was going to get worse.

"The issue at hand is that Dumbledore alleges Lord Black to have kidnapped Harry Potter from his muggle aunt's residence where Dumbledore has placed him, and he wishes to wrest control of the boy-who-lived back from Lord Black. As always, we shall hear from the two parties, then vote."

Reiter stood up. "I object, Madam Chief Witch. My client and I contend that this body - the Wizengamot - has lost, if not outright abrogated, its authority. This body no longer has the right to order a cup of tea, much less order my client to do something."

This was pure gold for the reporters; "order a cup of tea" indeed - Reiter certainly had a way with words!

"The hearing on the 27th of February ended on what can only be termed an **utterly shameful** note for governance and the rule of law in general, and for the Wizengamot in particular.

A sitting Chief Warlock decided to unilaterally take action that no one else thought he had a right to, without giving us any reason at all. The clear and unambiguous message was that 'might is right', and that the opinion of this body does not count."

He paused and took a breath.

"The dictionary defines 'sedition' at least partly as 'an illegal action inciting resistance to lawful authority'. One could make the argument that Dumbledore merely resisted lawful authority, and did not, in fact, _incite_ anyone to. But because he is the sitting Chief Warlock, his actions are deemed to be exemplary, and therefore this action is sedition.

If this body is to get back its legitimacy, it must first try Dumbledore for sedition. Until then, it has no right to impose its will on any of its citizens."

The hall was in an uproar by now, so he had to raise his voice.

"There are, in this hall right now, three observers from the ICW. They have been provided pensieve memories, certified untampered and complete by wizarding oath, of the hearing of February 27th. They will now hear the rest of this hearing, and will go back to submit a report, both to their own governments and to the ICW.

Dumbledore spoke of a _higher responsibility_ in his self-aggrandising speech that day. Well, he is not the only one with higher responsibilities. The ICW has its own. And, dear members of the Wizengamot, so do you all. If you do not at least try him for sedition, you have not lived up to _yours_."

With that, Reiter sat down.

* * *

Once the chaos had subsided, after several bangs of the Chief Witch's gavel, Madam Longbottom stood to speak.

"A charge of sedition is a very serious one. It requires a preliminary vote on whether there is enough prima facie evidence to even _start_ the proceedings. It is important enough that it will not be a secret vote; everyone - the public in the galleries, the press, and their readers - both here and abroad - have a right to know what **each of you** thinks about a sitting Chief Warlock deciding to thumb his nose at us."

 _Well, when you put it like that..._ , thought Hobby. Anyway, it seemed like every single person had his hand up.

"Thank you. All hands down please. Now, just to be sure, anyone who does _not_ believe trying Dumbledore for sedition is required..."

Not a single hand was raised. Not even one.

"This court is adjourned. Madam Bones, please have your aurors put magic suppressing manacles on Dumbledore and lead him to a holding cell till tomorrow."

Then she dropped a really big bombshell. A really, **really** , big one, which Hobby had not even remotely anticipated.

"May I remind you that a charge of sedition automatically carries with it the immediate removal or dismissal from any job paid for by the government. This removal is temporary for ordinary government officials, but for anyone at or above the rank of department head, that is, all department heads, the minister, and the chief wizard or witch, this removal is permanent, _regardless of the outcome of the sedition charge_."

Mass pandemonium broke out. Dumbledore had shot himself royally in the foot with his dictatorial attitude at the previous hearing. Then, to continue the metaphor, he had picked up the gun again and shot himself in the balls!

One of Dumbledore's loyalists, who had at least abstained from the vote (it is hard to count abstained votes in a show of hands vote), stood. Madam Longbottom said "Mr Diggle, you have something to say?"

"Madam Chief Witch, this is unprecedented! Unheard of! What if he turns out to be innocent?"

"It is precisely because this happens so rarely that the laws are so clearly written, Mr Diggle. If you are not familiar with the law, please spend some time familiarising yourself with it. I did not dream these rules up you know; they're all in the books".

"Madam, are you saying that anyone could arbitrarily be charged with sedition and lose their jobs?"

"Arbitrarily? Certainly **not** , Mr Diggle! Did you forget we took a vote just now?"

* * *

 **1986-03-12 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

It was clear, of course, that Dumbledore had been played masterfully. Hogwarts was not _quite_ a government job; it was partly funded by the government but not enough for the axe to fall on his role as headmaster. He had, however, permanently lost his Wizengamot membership, as well as, of course, his ICW position. Even if he managed to evade the charge of sedition, which was not at all certain right now. And if he was found guilty of that... he shuddered!

Years later, Dumbledore would rue this single episode as the biggest mistake he had ever made. If he were really honest, he was making tactical moves, while Black was making _strategic_ moves.

Now it seemed he would have to pull one of his trump cards out, but which one... the prophecy? No; that could end up implicating Severus. The poor boy had had enough pain already.

The scar that was certainly more than a scar? No - that would backfire again, they would ask why he had not had it checked at St. Mungo's or elsewhere.

Anyway, it was time to 'face the band', as the muggles say.

* * *

"Settle down, everyone", said Madam Longbottom. The bulk of the excitement over Dumbledore losing two of his three positions was over; now it only needed to be seen if he was for the gallows (figuratively) or would be allowed to slink back to Hogwarts.

"This hearing is to decide if the charge of sedition, laid on Albus Dumbledore for his actions in this very room on February 27th, should be upheld or thrown out. Please note that, with even just the charge, Dumbledore has lost the privilege of working for the government in any capacity. As such, he is no longer the Chief Warlock, nor is he the Supreme Mugwump or even a representative of the British magical government at the ICW. However, if he is found guilty of the sedition charge, he will face more than just losing a couple of positions.

The defendant will speak first. Questions may be put to him to clarify any point that we deem to require clarification."

Everyone was quiet. Knowing this old man had already been punished quite a bit did not sit right with some of them, others were in a "wait and see" mode, but Hobby was ecstatic. A lot of the issues that Harry had - in fact, nearly all of them, other than his parents' death, he supposed - could be laid at this bastard's feet. Whether as headmaster, Chief Warlock, or Harry's claimed magical guardian, there were a number of things he could have done which he completely and utterly failed to do. And it wasn't even clear - having heard of his threats to Sirius to send him back to Azkaban - that it was mere failure; there was a pretty good chance at least some of them were _intentional_.

Dumbledore stood up slowly, drawing out the action for maximum effect. This too was somewhat polarising - many in the audience felt awed or whatever, others could not care. And Hobby snorted, "drama queen", to himself.

Dumbledore started his speech. "I have been given a time limit of five minutes to explain why I went to such lengths to keep Harry Potter with his muggle aunt. I can explain it in five words: he needs the blood protection.

The background consists of two facts. One - he survived the killing curse due to his mother invoking ancient magic. Two - the magic was based on her blood bond with her baby, which means it can continue to protect him if he stays with someone who shares her blood."

He paused a second or two, then said, "Well, three facts, actually. The third fact is that Voldemort is not completely dead".

Hobby could almost see the smirk inside his mind, and that he was keeping himself from showing it on his face.

When the hubbub and the witless screaming had died down, he continued. "His body was never found. That and a couple of other indications are what tell me this is true".

"What other indications?", asked Madam Longbottom.

Dumbledore looked uncomfortable. He clearly did not want to draw attention to Snape's dark mark. However, Snape was not in the audience, and there were several other death-eaters there.

"Take a look at the left arms of Mr Malfoy, Mr Dolohov, Mr Nott, among others. The dark mark on their arms is a charm that is linked to his very soul, and it has not faded."

"How do you know it is linked to his soul?"

"I would be willing to share the details with any **one** unspeakable of your choice, subject to certain oaths I will require from him, and he can confirm what I have said. More than that I will not say, even if you threaten me with three lifetimes in Azkaban", said Dumbledore, with an expression that seemed to say "and you should thank me for it".

Croaker stood up, walked to Malfoy, grabbed his left hand and poked his wand at the dark mark.

Normally, that kind of action, even from someone as powerful and important as the head of the unspeakables, would have caused Malfoy to literally strike out, probably very violently. Sadly, Malfoy's stock, in magical circles, was very low right now, because he had lost his wand hand, and he was still training himself to use his left hand, which was taking time.

(As bad as that was, it was made worse when word of Amelia's pub shout made the rounds. When combined with the fact that the person who had hit him - Robards - had not had even a preliminary inquiry initiated against his actions, _and_ that not even Minister Fudge had attempted to do so (on the very reasonable grounds that drawing a wand on the head of the DMLE in the Minister's office was what started it all), Malfoy's reputation essentially was in tatters. He had his wealth still, but that was it, really.)

Croaker spent a few minutes poking and prodding, then he turned to Madam Longbottom. "I will not subject myself or my team to any oaths that Dumbledore comes up with. Luckily, that will not be necessary. I can confirm what he says right now from my examination."

Dumbledore looked shocked. It had taken him months of research to conclude this. Did Croaker really understand all that, or was he bluffing?

Croaker could see that same doubt in Dumbledore's and possibly others', minds. He decided to lay them to rest.

"What Dumbledore did not tell you, is that the link goes both ways. If you round up every single person who has the mark, and throw them through the veil or otherwise kill them, Voldemort will die as soon as the last one is gone."

This time the pandemonium was completely out of control. Madam Longbottom called a 30 minute recess simply because it was unlikely to settle down soon, but it was doubtful if anyone heard her.

* * *

When they reconvened, she banged her gavel once or twice, but people had mostly settled down, the shock having dissipated. Malfoy and his cronies were still looking at Croaker like they could murder him right now, but looks were cheap, and Croaker, while not more powerful than Dumbledore in raw power, was certainly a lot more knowledgeable, as evidenced by how quickly he confirmed Dumbledore's statements just before the recess.

Madam Longbottom decided to stir the pot a little more. It seemed the tide was turning against the death-eaters in various ways, big and small. She, like many others, had been against Fudge's release of all those bastards anyway, and Malfoy was - in her mind - enemy number 1 now that the three Lestranges and Crouch, who had tortured her son and daughter-in-law into insanity, were dead. ( _And that reminds me, I need to figure out how to contact this Phantom and thank him properly; the Longbottoms owe him_ , she thought.)

"Mr Croaker, would that not be unjust to those who were really forced to take the mark under imperius."

"No. Because this mark cannot be taken under the imperius. Malfoy lied his way out of this and Bagnold bought it. Or rather, _was bought_ , if you get my meaning. Our remarkable friend the 'Phantom' keeps reminding us of this aspect of Fudge, but Bagnold was no better", he said. He knew he could not be hauled up for his remarks. After all, if they were so innocent, why did they do all this without consulting with his department on the claims?

Hobby was shocked. He knew many people were _thinking_ this, but to have someone say it out loud, and that too in a bland, matter-of-fact manner by someone of the stature of Croaker, was an eye-opener to most of them. _Where the hell were these people in my past life? Madam Longbottom, Madam Bones, and now Croaker - spirited people who kept their own counsel and spoke their mind? How had they been silenced so effectively?_ Of course, the fact that - among the light side - the only powerful person he had known was Dumbledore, made it quite clear _who_ , if not _how_.

Meanwhile, Malfoy - for the umpteenth time - cursed himself and his stupidity at having risen to Amelia's bait. He stood, got a nod from Madam Longbottom, and said, "Normally, I would have challenged you to a duel for that, but I am currently incapacitated. I assure you I did not take this mark willingly."

"Challenge me to a duel? I would have thought you'd draw your wand and fire without warning, but I suppose you've learnt your lesson from the last time you tried that. Why don't you ask one of your friends - I see several giving you looks of support here - to challenge me?"

Instantly, all these friends looked away - at the ceiling, at the floor, at their wrist-watches, whatever.

Croaker snorted. "Hmm no I guess I was mistaken. You don't seem to have any friends here", he laughed. Then he became serious. "Malfoy, make no mistake about it. I echo what the Phantom said. One step out of line and we will find a way to have all of you bastards here with so much veritaserum pumped into you it will be leaking from your a-".

" **Mr Croaker, there is no call for that kind of language here** ", shouted Madam Longbottom. "Mr Malfoy, that last comment will be erased from the record".

Malfoy looked at her with a tinge of gratefulness. Madam Longbottom smiled benignly at him and continued. "What Mr Croaker meant was: one step out of line and we will find a way to have all of you fine gentlemen here, dosed to the medically permissible limit with veritaserum."

By now the discussion had been derailed quite a bit. Dumbledore was still in the dock, and needed to be dealt with. For his part, he appeared to be watching calmly and quietly, which was somewhat unusual for the old meddler.

She turned to him. "Now that that is settled, do you have anything to add?"

"No Madam Longbottom".

"There is no other factor - remember you are under oath - that affects Harry Potter in any way, which caused you to act as you did on February 27th?"

Dumbledore thought for a bit. This was a "court oath", not a "magical oath", and so would not truly harm him if he lied. Anyway, if he took the line that Harry's living arrangements were what he sought to control by his unilateral decision that day, this would be the only reason.

"None, Madam Longbottom".

"Alright. Before we vote, I have one last question for you. You must have already known what Mr Croaker just revealed - that the mark must be taken willingly, and that eliminating everyone with the mark would get rid of Voldemort. Why, then, did you not advocate this? With your position in government, you could have easily made this happen in the immediate aftermath of Halloween 1981, couldn't you?"

Before Dumbledore had a chance to respond, Sirius spoke up. "Oh no, that would mean his pet death-eater Snape would also have to be killed."

 _Hmm, Mrs Tonks looks very interested in hearing that_ , thought Hobby. _Of course, Tonks - the daughter - must be in her second year now, and may have complained about Snape. Maybe I can use this..._ , he mused.

Sirius was still speaking. "We can't have that - much better to subject a child to abuse from his magic-hating relatives, deny him his rights, seal his parents' wills, and leave his godfather in prison. You should know that Harry's godmother was Alice Longbottom - I am now wishing the Phantom had not killed those four; I would have loved to ask what role, if any, did Dumbledore play in denying my godson the care of his godmother."

Hobby was not sure if Sirius meant this seriously or was just stirring the pot, but Madam Longbottom's face was showing all the signs of an impending explosion.

Clearly Dumbledore had seen it too, and - without waiting for anyone to ask any more questions - held his wand up and solemnly intoned, "I swear on my life, my soul, and my magic that I had nothing to do with that and no knowledge or even _hint_ of it before it happened, nor did I know more than anyone else who heard about it by word of mouth or the newspapers afterward".

 _Oh well, it was too much to hope we could pin that on you too, you old goat-fucker_ , thought Hobby.

Madam Longbottom was mollified by the quickly offered, unambiguous, oath. She calmed herself to a mild glare, and said, "We will now vote on whether Dumbledore is to be _convicted_ of having acted in a seditionary manner, or should we consider his evidence as sufficient mitigation."

When the votes - again by show of hands - were tallied, Dumbledore heaved a visible sigh of relief. Even to someone of his power, being found guilty of this would have been a huge setback.

Hobby, watching all this invisibly as usual, was thinking about the near unanimity of the vote, considering all that was revealed today. But in truth, Dumbledore had not suffered much today: he had given a plausible reason for wanting Harry with the Dursleys, and that last oath had also played a part. And at the end of the day, Voldemort was not truly dead, so throwing away the one wizard he was said to be afraid of was a bad idea. _Well, I can live with that. For now!_

Madam Longbottom closed the meeting, saying, "Dumbledore is acquitted of the charge of sedition. As to his reasons for wanting Harry Potter with his muggle aunt, the correct thing to have done would have been to give him to his godfather, and help his godfather protect him. Regardless of what we may feel is good for society, there can be no excuse for denying a child the benefit of the love and care his parents had planned for him, in the event of their deaths. His parents have already sacrificed themselves for us, and we have no right to ask the son also to do so. As such, I am ordering the unsealing of their wills. Lord Black, at your convenience, you shall go to Gringotts with your godson to have the will read".


	17. Chapter 17: Drastic measures

Chapter 17: Drastic measures

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-03-16 16:00 UTC, location unknown**

Sirius and Harry floo-ed into Nick and Penny's kitchen straight from Gringotts. Penny welcomed them, giving both of them a warm hug, and sitting Harry down near herself.

Hobby had quickly made himself invisible and stepped away as soon as they had entered. In the few days since they had met, and the excitement of Dumbledore's trial had died down, these four had become very close. Hobby was even considering becoming their elf so he could spend more time with Harry - after all, he was a free elf, and other than being confused, Malfoy could not do much anyway. The only thing that stayed him (he reminded himself) was that working at the Malfoys gave him access to information he might never get otherwise.

"So what did the wills say, Sirius?", asked Nick.

"Nothing earth shaking, Nick. Corroboration that I was not the secret keeper and that Pettigrew was, and instructions that Harry should be cared for by me, and if not by me then Alice, and if not Alice then Amelia. So - even if the old codger had a genuine excuse for not giving me a trial and did not know about Alice, he would have been forced to give him up to Amelia."

"Was Dumbledore a witness?"

"No, only Frank and Amelia were", said Sirius. "Actually, I never knew James was that close to Amelia. Anyway, she's a great choice; Harry would have been happy with her. Oh well, we'll just have to make sure he spends some time with her. I believe Amelia's niece is the same age so should be good company. And young Neville too...", his voice trailed off, thinking about how to make sure Harry grew up knowing some kids his age; clearly the Dursleys had made sure he did not have that pleasure.

* * *

 **1986-04-01 07:00 UTC, Malfoy manor**

Hobby was re-thinking his target list. When he had asked for this form of the second chance, he had no set plan in mind, only a vague idea that he should eliminate all the death-eaters, and Fudge and Umbridge, with extreme prejudice, making the deaths at least look like the result of internecine squabbles, if not outright accidental.

But, seeing how Madam Longbottom, Madam Bones, and later even Croaker, had stepped up and taken much more outspoken stands in this conflict, did he really need to do that? Would it not be better to let nature take its course, since this was already a different world?

That's not to say that he would become complacent - he definitely had to de-fang Snape (may be easier now that Dumbledore had been pulled off his high horse). And nothing - absolutely nothing - would stop Umbridge's sad demise, that was the one thing he was certain about, and felt absolutely no guilt over. Even looked forward to.

He thought about _that_ for a minute - why did he have less qualms about Umbridge than he had about, say, Macnair? It was clear that the death-eaters had killed and tortured more people, so why did the sight or thought of the pink-clad bitch cause his blood to boil?

 _I suppose it must be that she did her evil deeds in her official capacity. The death-eaters were clearly unlawful, but she would still have ways to escape, if ever called to the mat_ , he reasoned.

(In fact, due to the muggle-born registration committee, she _had_ indirectly killed far more than any single death-eater, though Hobby did not realise that.)

So, next target, Umbridge, then Snape. The question was, how? A quiet and simple exit was well within his means - he could, if he wished, pop anywhere and kill anyone. He was literally that powerful.

But two very important points militated against that. First, and most importantly, even though he kept telling himself he did not have a conscience or morals when it came to the bad guys, the fact is that he did, in fact, have a wee bit of queasiness about such a course of action.

Secondly, he did not want to make anyone think any of these killings were suspicious, or that they were anything but what they seemed to be - in-fighting among the death-eaters, accidents, and so on. People mysteriously turning up dead tended to make people start wondering what was going on, and he did _not_ want that.

* * *

 **1986-05-07 07:00 UTC, Malfoy manor**

Hobby got his chance a month later. Things had been very quiet on all fronts for a month or more now. Downright boring in fact. And then...

Malfoy was telling Narcissa something, with great relish. "Dumbledore has pretty much stopped coming to the ministry. It seems he threw a tantrum about having to submit his wand for testing, or whatever they do, at the security desk, but the guy at the desk said 'rules are rules'. Which was something Dumbledore always said - when it was convenient to him of course!"

"He must be cursing Sirius, that Reiter chap, and especially Madam Longbottom, every time he breathes", said Narcissa, laughing.

"Oh I'm sure. About as much as I am cursing the Bones bitch", said Malfoy.

"Wasn't it Robards who hit you?"

"Yes but he was just doing his job. Bones apparently stood drinks for almost the entire auror corps that evening. That makes it personal. Too bad she didn't die with her brother and sister-in-law."

He paused to reflect a bit.

"Anyway, I've been practicing with my left hand and I think I am good enough to challenge her now", he said.

"Don't be stupid, Lucius. If Bella were alive she would have a field day calling _you_ a Gryffindor. Anyway, weren't you and Fudge also in on the plot to charge Sirius with kidnapping the Potter boy? You should count yourself lucky the axe fell only on Dumbledore.

No no, you cannot retaliate against Bones. Get someone else to do it - someone who is not a death-eater, otherwise the Phantom might keep his promise."

"I don't believe it - you are afraid of that nameless, faceless, wizard?"

"Yes I am, and I don't mind saying so. You have no idea what it felt like to wake up in someone else's backyard, a bunch of other people's children and elves around you. The feeling of loss of control is... extremely frightening.

So, as I said - you will farm this off to someone else, and you will do it in such a way that there is _no_ hint of any connection with you."

Hobby was, of course, listening to all this. **_Aha_** , he thought, _time to give Umbitch some 'suggestions' on offering her services for Malfoy's noble cause. She's not a death-eater, so the Phantom's ultimatum won't kick in too!_

* * *

 **1986-05-08 07:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office**

"Ah Dolores, come in, come in. How are things with you?", said Fudge.

"Cornelius, I wish to speak to you on a very sensitive subject - the current state of our world, this Phantom, and especially some people in the ministry", Umbridge started off without preamble.

"Ah yes, I myself have been quite exercised over the matter, but have been unable to come to any definite plan of action. Perhaps hearing your views would help".

"I'll be frank with you. I think it is shameful what happened to Lord Malfoy, Although not directly Bones's fault, she being the senior I think she bears a large part of the responsibility. I would like to help, _in any way I can_ , to remind her where her primary responsibilities and loyalties should be".

"I see. Did you have a specific plan in mind?"

"I have actually thought of challenging her to a duel, but I am concerned that she will cheat her way to victory".

"Dolores, much as I do not like her, I have never known her to cheat in any way. What exactly do you mean?"

"She knows more spells than I do - that is what I meant by 'cheating'".

Ever the politician, Fudge did not let a contemptuous laugh come out; he gave not even a hint of his feelings on Umbridge's definition of cheating. "Ah of course; yes. So a formal duel is out. Well, let me think about this for a bit, then I will get back to you. Come back in an hour, and we can continue this discussion."

* * *

A few minutes later he was on the floo to his good friend Malfoy, describing to him what had just happened, and asking how best to use Umbridge in this endeavour.

"Cornelius, that is indeed very very coincidental!" - _or your house-elf went and laid a compulsion charm on Umbitch_ _ **after**_ _hearing your discussion with your wife, you_ _ **moron**_ _!_ , Hobby snorted to himself - "Cissy and I were just discussing this yesterday, and we had come to the conclusion that it would have to be someone who had not been put under the imperius by the Dark Lord and forced to take the dark mark. I think Umbridge would be an excellent candidate for this."

"She is magically weak, has no concept of tact or finesse, and in general is completely useless in any type of combat situation. What would be the best way of using her, do you think, Lucius?"

Malfoy turned his head when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Tell him Umbridge needs to ambush Bones with some story; best to have her call Bones and tell her she knows something about the Phantom and would like to see Bones in her office. Then have her stand behind her door and stupify Bones as she comes in. After that she can do whatever she wants, but make sure she is unable to tell people what happened except under veritaserum".

* * *

Around 9am, Umbridge came back to Fudge's office to receive her instructions. Unknown to them, Hobby was also there, invisible, in the corner. In fact, he had made a quick jump to Umbridge's office and used a compulsion charm to delay her until he, Hobby, was able to get away from his morning tasks in Malfoy manor. He needed this pensieve memory.

"Dolores, come in, come in. I have been thinking about what you said, and I agree that Bones's influence and power need to be drastically cut down. If drastic measures are needed, then so be it."

"What about Longbottom? After we spoke earlier this morning, it struck me that Bones derives a lot of her confidence from being so close to the Chief Witch."

"There is no need to be too ambitious, Dolores; let us deal with one first, and then worry about the other." Translation: _if you manage to do one..._

"In any case", he continued, "I believe I have what will be the simplest way to deal with Bones. Tell her you have heard something about the Phantom and would like to see her in your office. Stand behind your door and ambush her when she walks in. A very simple plan; complicated plans don't always work out."

 _Neither do simple ones if I have anything to say about it_ , thought Hobby.

* * *

Without waiting much longer, Hobby decanted the memory into a vial, made himself invisible, and popped straight into Madam Bones office. She was - luckily - not in at the moment, so he put the vial on her desk, with a note saying "compliments of the Phantom".

He then went looking for her, and stayed with her until she came back to her office, saw the vial and viewed the memory; otherwise there was a (slight) danger that the event would happen as Narcissa planned.

Amelia was livid. She was going to turn around and go straight to Fudge, to arrest him and Umbridge, when a mild cough sounded from one corner of the room.

Not the kind to panic even in if there was any real danger, she calmly turned to the corner and said "the Phantom, I presume?"

"Yes Madam Bones", said a deep voice which reminded her of someone else; she could not remember who, but that would have to wait.

"I would not advocate confronting the corrupt bastard right away, Madam Bones", continued the voice. "Borrow one of the combat armour suits for the day, disillusion it. When the message comes, take someone with you - I suggest Shacklebolt or, for poetic justice, Robards - then let the trap spring. Umbitch's magical power is close to squib; she can't do anything that will get past the armour, and your colleague will be close behind, to shield, deflect, or whatever. Worst comes to worst you duck; your reflexes are pretty good and you are not going in unaware of what may happen".

"Hmm, good points. I can make a much better case from something that actually happened, than from something that was merely planned. Especially when the pensieve memory cannot be sworn to". She gave him a look, though she could not see him. "I suppose it is too much to ask you to reveal yourself and swear to that memory?"

"Not yet, Madam Bones". _Why the heck did I say that? I had no intention of ever revealing myself; I simply cannot! Oh well, that was not a promise anyway._

"Can I ask why you are doing this?"

"This specific issue? Clearly because I want you as minister! Didn't I make that obvious?", he laughed.

Amelia laughed too; she found she could not truly be angry at this... what was he, a murderer? Whom had he murdered? People who were in Azkaban, and should have been, for the rest of their lives, but had somehow - due to the corrupt minister - escaped. Every day they went free was a day when any number of innocents were at risk of _being_ murdered. And her friends Frank and Alice had very nearly _been_ murdered, too.

Law enforcement is trained to think "vigilante bad", but maybe - after seeing what they wanted to do to a couple that was _already_ beyond all help anyway - there was something to be said for quick justice. She would need to think it through much more carefully.

In any case, she had no power over this man. He had disappeared silently. From a warded room and building. Right in front of her.

She donned the armour, and sat down at her desk. May as well get some paperwork finished while waiting.

* * *

 **1986-05-08 09:30 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Senior Undersecretary's office**

Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, walked into Dolores Umbridge's office a few minutes after receiving a request to discuss something. Shacklebolt was a couple of feet behind her, but he did not completely enter the room, in order to avoid being seen by someone hiding behind the door.

"REDUCTO", came the curse, from behind the door - exactly as expected. Amelia ducked low while Shacklebolt quickly swept around the door and hit the witch with a petrifaction spell.

* * *

 **1986-05-08 14:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Courtroom 7**

"Good afternoon, everyone; please settle down". _I seem to be saying that a lot these days_ , thought Madam Longbottom. So many high-profile cases since the beginning of the year, one had to wonder what had gotten into people.

"Bring the prisoner in", she said once a modicum of quiet had been established.

Dolores Umbridge, former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, was brought in, ankles and wrists chained. Muggle chains, not magical ones - someone knew what would piss her off more and was enjoying this. She wondered who that could be, but it was useless to speculate; the field was too big.

Umbridge was made to sit in the chair in the center. Courtroom 7 was about the largest they had, and they had had to move the trial from room 10 because of the number of people who were attending.

Word had also leaked about the Minister being under a cloud, and Madam Longbottom's next words confirmed this:

"For reasons that will become clear, Minister Fudge has been asked to recuse himself from this case; he will, if he chooses to attend, be part of the audience.

We will now start the proceedings. Madam Bones will provide her testimony first".

Amelia Bones took the floor. "Shortly after 9am today, I had returned to my office from a meeting, and found a vial containing a memory, with a short note attached to it.

She waited for the susurration to die down.

"I will now play the memory. It is very short, no more than a few minutes. Please hold all your comments and discussion till I complete my testimony".

She then played the memory. The entire Wizengamot saw Fudge casually describe the need to "cut down" the influence and power of Madam Bones. They heard the phrase "drastic measures". Finally, they heard the actual plan outlined by Fudge.

"I am gratified that my name came up too", said Madam Longbottom with a smile. Then she continued, "The reason we did not bring Minister Fudge himself in, is because the person, whose memories we are viewing, will not be coming forward as a witness. As such, the memory itself is inadmissible as evidence, without someone to swear to it in our presence. Madam Bones, please continue your testimony".

"Thank you Madam Chief Witch. The note that accompanied the memory merely said 'compliments of the Phantom', which of course made it very clear to me that he would not be appearing in court. So I decided to do nothing, and just wait and see what happens.

I did not have to wait long. Barely twenty minutes later, I received a message from Dolores Umbridge, saying she had some information about the Phantom, and would I please meet her in her office. I took one of my senior-most aurors - Shacklebolt - and went to her room. Please note that at this point I was still not sure if the memory was genuine or some sort of prank. I did tell Shacklebolt about it, and told him to stay alert.

I entered the room, only to find Dolores was not at her desk. However, her room contains some filing cabinets in one corner, and it would not be unheard of for her to be filing something or looking for something there, so this was still not quite proof of any skullduggery.

But a bare second later, I heard a loud 'REDUCTO' from behind the door. Since I was already somewhat primed for action, I managed to duck low - lower than the spell from this unusually short woman - and avoided being hit. Shacklebolt ensured that she could not try for a second shot, and we arrested her.

Since this is, clearly, an assassination attempt on a department head, any suspects are to be given veritaserum to ascertain all possible details. That is what we will be doing. This is standard procedure - just because it has not happened till now does not mean it is a new rule or something".

Senior Auror Shacklebolt administered the veritaserum to Umbridge, and also did the interrogation. Somewhat unusual, perhaps, but the two people who would have taken precedence were either implicated (Fudge) or interested (Bones). _Though, to be honest, I am just as interested as Amelia is_ , Madam Longbottom smirked to herself.

After the usual "name, occupation" type questions, Shacklebolt started the real questions.

"Was that memory we saw accurate as far as you know?"

"Yes". There was not even a struggle, as is often seen when a person under veritaserum is forced to admit or say something she would normally not have done. Either she didn't care, or she was so weak that the veritaserum completely overrode her will.

"What were you intending to do to Madam Bones?"

"I was intending to kill her."

"Why were you intending to kill her."

"She has become too powerful. Upstanding citizens like Lord Malfoy suffer injuries that would normally result in Azkaban to the perpetrators, yet not even an inquiry happens".

Everyone knew there was no point arguing with someone under veritaserum so the questions continued.

"How did you plan to hide the body or the fact that Madam Bones would have last been seen in your office before she disappeared".

"I would have expected Cornelius to take care of that".

And that was basically it. A call to arrest Fudge went out - he was found in Gringotts, trying to clean out his vault - and he was brought in to the courtroom. The fact of where he was caught and what he was doing at the time, were also submitted as evidence of malicious intent.

Finally, both were charged with conspiracy to murder and conspiracy to murder a ministry worker. In addition, Umbridge was charged with attempted murder and attempted murder of a ministry worker. She got life in Azkaban, while he got fifteen years. (And after a bit more politicking, Madam Bones was elected Minister for Magic, not unanimously, but by a more than decent margin).

Hobby was glad Malfoy was not implicated. He still needed his information source.

 _Score: Rookwood, Macnair, Lestranges and Crouches dead, Pettigrew, Umbitch, and Fudge in Azkaban. Now to get Snape to join them_ , he gloated.


	18. Chapter 18: destroying Hogwarts

Chapter 18: Destroying Hogwarts

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1986-05-22 16:00 UTC, Tonks' residence**

Hobby had decided that there was no way Snape would be at Hogwarts by the time Harry reached there. At least not without a complete personality transplant. To be fair to the bastard, he would _try_ , but just once. One chance is all he would get, which is more than he was intending to give anyone to begin with.

To that end, he wrote a detailed note and sent it, as the Phantom of course, to Mrs Tonks.

 _Dear Mrs Tonks,_

 _I'll be brief. First, I am the so-called 'Phantom' - a terrible name I came up with on the spur of the moment when someone asked me how they should find me. If your husband - as I am led to believe - is a muggle-born, ask him what the phrase 'You never find the Phantom, he finds you' means to a muggle comic book aficionado._

 _I am writing to you to ask for your help in attempting to curb Severus Snape's behaviour in Hogwarts. You know by now what I mean; if not, just ask your daughter. In fact, ask anyone not in Slytherin! I will only add that he is doing all this with the knowledge and implicit consent of Dumbledore._

 _What I would like you to do - if you are agreeable - is first try to talk to Snape, explaining from your daughter's point of view what the problem is. If that doesn't help, talk to the headmaster. If that also doesn't help, ask to see the points register - every parent has the right to see this register for her own child, but more importantly, has a right to get summarised data from this register. Talk to Prof Sprout, your daughter's head of house. Count points in 8 categories: points given to / taken from each of the four houses. If that does not prove there is a problem, nothing will._

 _I freely admit I have a selfish motive in choosing you. The fact is, Snape is the only former death-eater who may (and I say_ _ **may**_ _) have repented his actions. That does not give him a free pass but I wish to at least try the "speak softly" approach - via your good self - first. The reason to choose you for this is that the Black reputation will make it easy to escalate the "speak softly" into a "big stick" if needed, and no one will question it too much - they expect that from you anyway!_

 _Sincerely, the so-called 'Phantom'_

* * *

Andy Tonks had heard as much about this 'Phantom' as any other member of the public, which is to say almost nothing except he had killed a few death-eaters. Including her own sister. She had been ambivalent about that: part anger that someone had killed her sister, part relief that said sister would no longer be able to do the terrible things she had apparently done in her life. _On balance_ , she reasoned, _with Nymphadora growing up, I suppose I should be happy that Bella is dead. I wonder if this Phantom had anything to do with Lucius being defanged too!_

Accordingly, Mrs Tonks sent an owl to the deputy headmistress to request a meeting with Prof Snape, with the deputy headmistress and the Hufflepuff head of house also present.

Snape was reluctant to come to any meeting that he (or at best McGonagall or Dumbledore) had not called, but he was eventually prevailed upon. Things in the world outside the relatively safe confines of Hogwarts had been very unsettled, and, while he was not _afraid_ per se, he at least was curious what this woman wanted.

* * *

 **1986-05-24 14:00 UTC, Hogwarts, Deputy HM's office**

"Good afternoon, professors; I hope I am not late", said Mrs Tonks as she walked in. She knew she was on time, but the other three were already there, and politeness demanded that she acknowledge it somehow.

"Not at all, Mrs Tonks, not at all. We had just finished up a prior meeting. Now, what can we do for you?"

Mrs Tonks looked directly at Snape. "Professor Snape, I am somewhat concerned about my daughter's potions marks. I wanted to discuss what the problem could be". _Speak softly, right?_ , she thought to herself.

Snape sneered, "Like most of the spoiled brats here, she is a dunderhead when it comes to potions. She is also utterly clumsy and I have known her to make the worst kinds of mistakes when I approach to examine what she is doing in more detail. There is no hope for her, and you are wasting your time and our time."

" **SEVERUS!** " Prof McGonagall's was livid. _Why did Severus always make the same kind of mistake?_ , she puzzled. "You will not talk about a child in our care in such terms."

Then she turned to their visitor. "I apologise Mrs Tonks; there was no call for that kind of language. However-".

"Prof McGonagall, every potion that she has messed up in school, was either one that she had already perfected at home or one that I asked her to do in front of me and it came out perfectly fine."

"Bah, what would you know of potions?", sneered Snape.

Mrs Tonks was having a very difficult time keeping a civil tongue in her head. Before she could respond, Prof McGonagall said, "Severus, Mrs Tonks is a certified, though not practicing, healer. As such, I am sure she knows more than enough to handle all seven years of the curriculum, and beyond". It seemed she was still angry with Severus.

He glared at her, and said nothing. Though, on second thought, implying that he could be replaced was probably not the way to get him to see reason.

Mrs Tonks continued. "Prof Snape, I have also heard that you are somewhat biased toward your own house, which is detrimental to the child's confidence. And I am not talking about just my daughter here. Finally, her grade in the externally evaluated end of year exam was quite good, which is not consistent with how her class work and home work assignments were graded."

She put on her best, friendliest, face. _Speak_ _ **softly**_ _, yes indeed!_

"I am requesting you to please consider these aspects".

"There is nothing to consider. This discussion is at an end, as I have better things to do than listen to a proud mother praise her clumsy oaf of a child", said Snape, and got up.

Mrs Tonks was not a Black for nothing. "Well, I tried the 'speak softly' approach, and not only did it not work, it never had a chance to work. So be it. I now formally call for, firstly, a review of all points given and taken by Professor Snape during the time he has been head of house and potions master here, and, secondly, a review of potions grades in classroom assessments against external assessments. Both to be categorised by Hogwarts house. I am a parent, and I know I have the right to this information as long as it is at an aggregate level and does not include any individual student's details".

" **You have no right to-** ", began Snape, spitting fire, before McGonagall said, "Oh yes she does, as does any parent. However, we don't actually need you for that task, Severus, so let us not keep you any more".

Snape looked like he wanted to stay, but could not find a way to do it while saving face, so he stormed out.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, having called in Prof Flitwick also, all three heads were aghast. The results were so clear, it was absolutely undeniable that Snape was systematically screwing the chances of any other house to have a fair shot at the house cup.

They even ignored the rule that a parent could only see details of her own child, so Mrs Tonks was able to literally look over their shoulders while they were doing this. She pointed out to them that some of the reasons for point losses were either too flimsy for the number of points lost, like, 20 points from Ravenclaw for showing off, or downright unreasonable: 10 points from Hufflepuff for breathing too hard.

(Later, they heard from the poor third year that happened to. What was not recorded in the points register was Snape's taunt: "Just because you are in Hufflepuff does not mean you have to huff and puff all the time", which the boy said made him very angry. Well, so was Prof Sprout!)

Meanwhile, it became clear where Snape had gone. Just when they were winding up their fact finding, who should walk in - without even knocking - but Dumbledore himself.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Tonks. I understand young Nymphadora is having some trouble with potions."

Again, Prof McGonagall responded before Mrs Tonks could. "Not at all Albus. Miss Tonks, like all non-Slytherins in this school, is only having trouble with the potion _master_. See for yourself!", and she thrust the worksheet on which they had been tallying the details that Mrs Tonks had formally asked for.

Dumbledore did not even glance at them. "I am sure they are quite normal, Professor McGonagall. I would like to remind you that we do **not** interfere in how another professor conducts his or her classes, nor do we presume to tell them how they are to run them".

He turned to Mrs Tonks, clearly angry. "I am sorry, Mrs Tonks, but if your daughter needs additional tutoring, I can rec-".

"Prof Dumbledore, as Prof McGonagall reminded Snape some time ago, I am a fully qualified, albeit not practicing, healer, so I know my way around potions. To be honest, I came here hoping to help someone fix a personality problem, but I see from your response that Snape might not be the real problem!

So let me ask you formally, as a parent to the headmaster: Would you please take appropriate action on these statistics we have collected from the points register and from the internal and external assessments of potions students, both before and after Snape took over?"

Albus looked quite unimpressed. "The muggles have a saying, Mrs Tonks. It goes, 'there are lies, damned lies, and then there are statistics'. I am sorry but I do not see the need for any action."

"Since you know so much about muggle sayings, I am sure you have heard the phrase 'speak softly, and carry a big stick'. I have tried the 'speak softly' part - you will notice I politely **requested** you, and before you came in, I had similarly requested Snape. I am quite happy to wield the 'big stick'. Meanwhile, please spend some time deciding if you value your headmastership more, or your death-eater's position more. One of them will be sacrificed unless this situation" - here she pointed to the papers on the desk - "improves **immediately and unequivocally** ".

"Are you threatening me Madam? In my own school?"

Prof Flitwick decided to put his oar in. "Strictly speaking, Albus, the school belongs to no single person, and we are all governed by-"

"Yes yes Filius, I was using a figure of speech", interrupted Dumbledore, giving Prof Flitwick a glare.

Turing to Mrs Tonks, he said "I have nothing more to say, Mrs Tonks. You have skirted the edge of what a parent has the right to do here - I notice that my three heads appear to have allowed you the free run of the points register as well as potions marks of, not just your child, but everyone. Any action you take will include a reckoning of that break in the rules".

Prof McGonagall was livid. "Since that would include accusing all three of us as collaborators, I would like to see you even **attempt** that without risking much more than one potions master, Headmaster!"

Prof Sprout, who had been silent all through, finally decided to say something. "Even if you bring that charge, Albus, it is a very minor infraction. If Mrs Tonks decides to make this information public, it won't even _register_ on the scale of public awareness and interest. I doubt if the newspaper will even cover it if Mrs Tonks makes these statistics public".

"And before you ask, she has every right to. In fact, the by-laws say we should be publishing the raw data, in aggregate, every year, so that anyone could make the comparison we have just made".

Dumbledore did precisely what Snape did a few minutes ago. He stormed out, his face red with anger.

* * *

 **1986-06-01 20:00 UTC, Tonks' residence**

"How did you get Skeeter to publish these statistics, Andy", asked Sirius.

Over the past few months, Sirius had gradually started rebuilding his personal relationships. His being properly exonerated in open court, including Pettigrew's capture, had done wonders for people's reactions to him. Andy, in any case, was pretty much always on his side, and did not take much convincing, but for Ted - always somewhat sceptical of the Black family (except his dear wife of course) - it had made a big difference. As a result, Sirius and his ward were frequent visitors to the Tonks home, especially because Harry enjoyed young Nymphadora's company very much, her metamorph capabilities providing endless hours of entertainment for the child.

"Well, I have no idea. She took one look at what I showed her, and she said 'I'll get right on it, Madam Tonks'. She was almost deferential, if not downright obsequious! I cannot explain it at all!"

"So now the public is up in arms against Dumbles and Snape!"

"Oh yeah! I assume you read some of the letters to the editor from recent Hogwarts graduates - not a single kind thing to be heard from a non-Slytherin!"

"Well, all credit to you for insisting that anyone who wants to write about Snape **must** declare his or her Hogwarts house in the letter and allow it to be printed. Really showed it to them when Skeeter got the editor's page to print them sorted by house!". Sirius was as close to giggling as a _man_ ever would come.

Together, they re-read the report on Dumbledore's reaction to this coverage.

 ** _Dumbledore defends Snape_**

 _When this reporter contacted the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, asking him for his reaction to these statistics, he had a somewhat unexpected response._

 _"Severus Snape has my full and unequivocal support. At Hogwarts, we have always had a policy of not interfering in another teacher's method of maintaining discipline, and I see no reason to violate that policy"._

 _This reporter asked him if that means he thinks these statistics are_ _ **wrong**_ _, or he knows they are correct but irrelevant. Headmaster Dumbledore appeared to dither between the two options - in several rambling sentences he alternately implied one then the other. This reporter was unable to pin him down to one of these conclusions._

 _Regardless of what Headmaster Dumbledore thinks, this reporter knows that the statistics supplied have been verified by senior Hogwarts staff. As such, the difference between Slytherin and non-Slytherin, especially in terms of in-class versus external assessment results, is damning. The fact that overall numbers appear to have taken a downward trend is also cause for concern. Together, this is a very strong indictment of Snape's deleterious effect on our society._

"Awesome. I had no idea she was that good - I couldn't have written it better myself!", said Ted, who had just walked in and read it over their shoulders.

"But nothing has changed. Time to up the ante...!", said Sirius.

* * *

 **1986-06-02 07:00 UTC, Hogwarts, headmaster's office**

Dumbledore was staring at the newspaper. Things were just going from bad to worse. The Daily Prophet had a very provocative headline that directly insulted him, yet far from pulling it completely, as would have happened even a few months ago, **he had not even been approached for his side of the story!** (Dumbledore conveniently forgot - or truly did not realise - that his defence of Snape yesterday _was_ his side of the story!)

It was the last two paragraphs of the lead news item that had Dumbledore sitting with his head in his hands, a massive headache vying for top spot with a vague feeling of dread that appeared to be rooted deep in his stomach.

 ** _Lord Black declares no confidence in Dumbledore; Boy-who-lived will not attend unless "things change"_**

 _Lord Sirius Orion Black, godfather and guardian of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, has responded to our request for an interview asking for his opinion on what is being called the "Snape controversy". Lord Black had this to say:_

 _"Firstly, it must be obvious to everyone who has followed my court case against him that I do not trust Albus Dumbledore to make me a cup of tea, leave alone make sure my godson is educated in a safe and sane environment. As such, I have started looking at other schools, as well as private tutoring, as alternatives. Harry will definitely_ _ **not**_ _be attending Hogwarts as things are today"._

 _On being asked if he considered all of Hogwarts to be a problem, he was very quick to clarify: "Not at all! I have the greatest respect for my old head of house Prof McGonagall, as well as Prof Flitwick, Prof Sprout, and indeed pretty much all the others. But as long as Snape is still around,_ _ **and**_ _being protected by Dumbledore, my godson will not be going to Hogwarts._

 _Lord Black also revealed that at least two of the other seven or eight professors have told him they would be willing to leave Hogwarts and take positions as private tutors for the boy-who-lived if Lord Black were to approach them. They also hinted that some more professors may be willing to join the exodus. The Daily Prophet asked Lord Black if this was fair to the other students, who would suffer needlessly due to his need to find a perfect tutor for his ward. His reply was stunningly ambitious:_

 _"Hmm, that is indeed a conundrum. I think what I will do then, is to convert one of my larger, but currently unused, properties into a school building, and invite_ _ **all**_ _the students who are affected to join us, which will hopefully entice all the remaining teachers - except the two troublemakers of course - to also join.". As an afterthought, he added, "Well... all students_ _ **except**_ _for those whose father or mother carried the dark mark of course."_

 _We asked if this was not too ambitious, and would he feel comfortable destroying a millennium-old institution like Hogwarts. Lord Black's reply was very insightful: "What is Hogwarts? A specific building? A specific location? I would say it is simply our youth, being taught by competent, fair teachers who have the students' best interests at heart. The way I see it, by refusing to control or dismiss Snape, Dumbledore is the one destroying Hogwarts, and if I am forced to do what I just proposed, I say I am_ _ **preserving**_ _the spirit of Hogwarts rather than destroying it"._

 _Try as we might, we at the Daily Prophet could not find fault with that line of reasoning, especially after having heard from old students of Snape, and/or their parents following yesterday's edition._

* * *

 **1986-07-14 10:00 UTC, location unknown**

"Good morning, Hobby, how are things at the Malfoys? Things have been quiet again aren't they?"

"Yes very quiet, Penny. And it appears that, for the second time in history, Dumbles and Malfoy are seeing eye to eye on something: protecting Snape. Though of course Malfoy is going about it covertly, because despite what he claims, he _is_ afraid of the Phantom!"

"Meanwhile, Sirius is incensed that the furore over Snape has died a quiet death. No doubt it is because Harry is nowhere near school age yet, so all that discussion we had a few weeks ago is moot, which means the story has no teeth, and the public ignores it. Young Dora Tonks has apparently been saying that Snape will, if possible, be even _worse_ than he was before that controversy erupted, because of the lack of any action against him".

"OK I understand about Sirius's statement being premature, but what about the statistics - aren't those telling people anything?", asked Hobby.

Penny gave a wry smile. "They are, but the people are sheep; they are indignant, but they want someone else to do something about their indignation", she sighed.

* * *

 **1986-07-28 21:00 UTC, Hogwarts, Snape's office**

Hobby observed Snape's habits quietly and invisibly for a few days, confirming one specific habit that he had noticed from the occasions when Snape had stayed over at the Malfoys.

Then he picked a day when Snape had ordered his usual 9pm cup of coffee, but was occupied in tending to a very critical potion and was not paying attention. When the Hogwarts elf brought a cup of coffee and left, he quickly poured a little of the liquid imperius into the coffee and hid himself.

Snape came back to his desk, sat down, and took a deep draught. Naturally, being a potion master, he knew immediately what he had been given, and that he would have no way to counter it. The potion did not prevent him from thinking. He knew of only one other person who could brew this: Dumbledore. The question therefore was why he had done this.

* * *

 **1986-07-29 07:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, DMLE offices**

A visibly angry Dumbledore stormed into the DMLE offices. "Kingsley, what is this I hear about Severus being arrested last night?"

"He was arrested while trying to molest Patricia Pensburg, who had just closed up her book shop and was walking toward the apparition point. He grabbed her and activated a portkey to a rather romantic rose garden somewhere on the Malfoy estate. And before you ask, I have no idea who she is, except that she has recently moved here from the US to take care of her aunt who had fallen ill, and that this aunt owns a book shop in Diagon which this young lady is now managing. Anyway, he is being tried in an hour, and is incommunicado till then, so you may as well wait for the trial to start".

"I wish I were still the Chief Warlock", muttered Dumbledore.

Not quietly enough, it seemed. "Wouldn't have done any good. The way you stood behind Snape, you'd be forced to recuse yourself from this trial anyway."

"That's alright. I will of course be arguing for the defence. I am sure this is all a big misunderstanding".

 _Yeah, right_ , thought Shacklebolt. _My aurors don't make those kinds of mistakes!_

* * *

 **1986-07-29 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Courtroom 10**

"Bring in the accused", said Madam Longbottom. Snape was brought in, magically cuffed, and placed in the chair in the centre of the room.

"Senior Auror Shacklebolt, could you read out the charges please?"

"Yes Madam Chief Witch. The charges are very simple, actually. Severus Snape was caught red-handed trying to molest a young lady called Patricia Pensburg, at about 10:30 pm last night. Ms Pensburg, luckily, is no slouch at defense, plus a couple of aurors happened to be right there, so things were well in hand before any damage - other than to the accused himself, from Ms Pensburg's boot heel - could be done."

 _Was that a grin threatening to break out on Kingsley's face?_ , pondered Dumbledore. If so, he was very disappointed. Yes, very disappointed indeed, that Kingsley should take pleasure in the misfortunes of a fellow order member. _I will need to speak to him soon_.

"Is Ms Pensburg in the court?"

"We did not deem it necessary, Madam Chief Witch, since two of my aurors happened to be barely a few feet behind the accused when he did this and saw the whole thing. However, she has said that she is available and can be here in less than five minutes if summoned".

"Very well. We shall hear the statements of the aurors, then the accused".

Dumbledore piped up. "Madam Chief Witch, I would like to stand as a character witness to Severus, if I may".

"I thought you might." _I certainly don't know anyone else in the whole damn world who would care to!_ "Aurors, please take the stand one by one and describe what you saw".

Agatha Noakes took the stand first.

"We were walking on our patrol as usual. When we were a few dozen yards from the apparation point, we saw the accused apparate in. At that time Ms Patricia Pensburg was walking towards the apparation point.

The accused stepped out very quickly, walked briskly towards Mr Pensburg, and grabbed her and portkeyed away. It took us about two to three minutes to trace the portkey and follow him, by which time he had apparently attempted to undress the young lady while she did her best to resist. She actually put up a good fight - I do not think the accused will ever be able to have children".

Then, under her breath, she muttered, "Which may be a good thing for the world!", raising some laughter from people nearby.

"I have a question, Madam Chief Witch. Could it not have been that Severus and the young lady knew each other and this was normal for them? Why did the aurors assume foul play?"

Madam Longbottom looked at Rhodes Pellville for an answer to Dumbledore's question.

"Well, she was shouting, 'who the fuck are you? If you don't let me go this instant I will cut off your ba-'"

"That will be quite sufficient, Auror Pellville", said Madam Longbottom. "Aside from those colorful quotes, do you have anything to add to Auror Noakes' testimony?"

"No Madam Chief Witch; that is exactly what happened".

"Alright. Let's hear what the accused has to say."

Snape stood at his place, still cuffed, and started to speak. His normal arrogance and the sneer that people had associated with his face were nowhere in evidence. Rather, he looked shocked and hurt - like a puppy whose loving master of several years had suddenly kicked him.

He spoke in a somewhat defeated voice. "The last time I had control of my actions, before waking up in the cell this morning, was at 9pm last night, when I picked up a cup of coffee which a house-elf had placed on my desk. I took a large swig, and instantly felt myself under the grip of a very rare potion called the liquid imperius. After that I only have vague memories of what happened."

"Ah, I see pleading the imperius is still in fashion", said Madam Bones from the side. Ever since Malfoy's unsuccessful attack on her, and the spectacular way it backfired on the death-eater, she had become much more blunt, and often made such pithy comments. And now she was the minister for magic, she had a lot more leeway too.

"Would you be prepared to swear to that under veritaserum, Mr Snape?", asked Madam Longbottom.

Malfoy rode gallantly up to the rescue. "There is no need for veritaserum; we should be able to take the word of one of our most outstanding potions masters at face value!", he proclaimed magnanimously.

Dumbledore also spoke up. "Indeed. That should not be necessary, Madam Chief Witch. I am willing to vouch for his character, and I assure you all that Severus would never do such a thing. He has my utmost confidence", he completed sanctimoniously.

"Unfortunately, Dumbledore, this case is being heard in a proper court, not on the pages of the Daily Prophet, where you can blithely ignore all evidence to the contrary and continue to spout your own brand of delusional reality. Nothing less than veritaserum will do if we are to accept what Snape is claiming", said Madam Longbottom.

Dumbledore was clearly distressed by that. For some reason, he did not seem to want Snape to take the veritaserum. And once again - curiously - he found himself on the same side of an issue as Malfoy! _Is this the third time?_ , he asked himself. Luckily for him, the shame he felt the first time was not much in evidence - _perhaps he was getting used to it?_ , he thought. Of course, that thought brought with it its own shudder.

Amelia then addressed Malfoy, "I would have expected that support from you of course, Malfoy. You are worried that if this happens, we may re-open old cases, without waiting for any fresh screw-ups, as promised till now. Don't worry; we won't do that!". Madam Bones appeared to have developed a long term grudge against Malfoy. (Well, he did try to curse her for speaking her mind!)

Then she continued, "I seem to recall that the accused is also a death-eater, and that too a death-eater who was not even tried. I say we use-"

Dumbledore was very quick to interrupt. "Madam Bones, I assure you that, regardless of whether he did it willingly or not, Severus deeply regrets his death-eater days. I know for a _fact_ that he has repented".

"Oh really, how do you know this? What made him repent?"

Dumbledore thought for a few seconds. _If he is classed as a death-eater and pumped full of veritaserum, his role in conveying the prophecy to Voldemort may come out. That would be the end for both of us, and must be prevented at all costs - even the cost of losing a spy, which may happen anyway_ , he mourned. _But Severus will be really hurt if they find out about his unrequited love, plus there are enough people who thought very highly of Lily who will resent that he even thought of her that way... aha! Brilliant, I know just how to spin this!_ , he thought.

Pasting a pious look on his face, he said: "I hesitate to air his personal life here, but if it makes the difference between his being in prison and being a free man, I think the choice is clear. The fact is, Severus was a childhood friend of Lily Evans, having grown up in the same town, and loved her like a sister. When she and her husband were targeted by Voldemort, he turned himself over to me, and swore to do whatever he could against the cause".

(Hobby, listening to this quietly and invisibly as usual, grinned to himself. _Oh boy, Dumbledore is playing some deep game, but of course it is bound to backfire spectacularly. Oh well, just watch the fun I guess..._ )

"Sister, you say?", asked Madam Bones.

"Yes indeed. He has personally assured me of this, with tears in his eyes at her loss".

The Minister for Magic turned to the Chief Witch. "So far, we have not produced the victim in court, nor described her in any way; we only gave her name.

The fact is, Mr Pensburg is a strikingly pretty red-head, with brilliant green eyes. A very rare combination, I believe. It is pure coincidence of course - we already checked to make sure she was not related to the late Mrs Potter.

Clearly, Snape is at best a very disturbed individual, and at worst he is downright dangerous to allow around young girls. If this is what he does to someone who looks like his 'sister', I shudder to think what he would do to some of the girls in the 6th and 7th years, or maybe even younger.

As we have already seen that Dumbledore will not listen to one word against him, expecting anything from that quarter is useless. Several of us have, or will have, children in Hogwarts soon, and I for one am with Lord Black now - as long as Snape and Dumbledore are both at Hogwarts, I am not sending my niece there.

Whatever punishment we decide, it should include his removal from Hogwarts, for the collective good of our children."

Dumbledore was catatonic. _Red hair and green eyes? Oh no oh no oh no! How had he not thought to check on who the victim was? Why oh why did Snape_ _ **do**_ _this? Even if he wanted to relieve himself in some way, weren't there any number of safer alternatives that would not raise a eyebrow, leave alone invite auror action?_

Meanwhile, Snape turned to Dumbledore. He spoke in a dull monotone, a voice devoid of hope and power, a voice of one who had resigned himself to what the fates will, and was not even remotely entertaining any thoughts of revenge or retribution.

"Albus, you and I are the only ones I know in Britain who can brew that potion. It was a Hogwarts house-elf that gave me the coffee; they only listen to you, as far as I am aware. As near as I can recall, it was _you_ who gave me my instructions - where to go, what to do. You even gave me the portkey to the Malfoys' rose garden. I admit the potion does not allow me to remember with full clarity, but as far as I could tell from behind the potion-induced haze, it was you.

I am sure that, deep in your sick, twisted, mind, you have some 'greater good' reason to ruin me like this, just as you had for Black's false imprisonment, and for the Potter brat's treatment at the hands of Lily's sister. I have no idea what game you are playing, but I am happy to be rid of you and your manipulations. This is an open court, and I say to you openly: may you rot in hell for all eternity. Azkaban has to be an improvement on being in your control".

And after that he said not a word to anyone in the court. He just clammed up completely.

Stunned silence greeted this. No one had any idea what had happened - these two were so close some had joked that they were lovers! And yet, one had apparently induced the other to commit indefensible crimes, and the other had called him out on it. There could not be a statement stronger than saying "Azkaban has to be an improvement" on someone!

Curiously, Snape's dull, toneless cursing at Dumbledore actually made him, in people's eyes, a victim. Not so much as to let him go, but there appeared to be sufficient pressure that the possibility of Azkaban receded rapidly. In the end, he was put on twelve years of probation and house arrest. He would work for St Mungos making potions during the day, and be housed during the night in a ministry appointed flat with magical protections against his leaving - basically a prison "suite", if there were such a thing.

Why twelve years? Well, no one openly questioned it, but it was well known that - by a very curious coincidence - many of the powers in that courtroom had children who would finish their Hogwarts years just about that time!

* * *

Later, Andy asked Sirius, "Why the heck did Dumbledore do that to one of his own?"

"Who knows how that twisted mind works? Remember I was also one of his own at one time! But if Snape himself says he is the only other wizard who could have made it, there can be no doubt".

Curiously, both of them seemed to forget that an alchemist is also a potioneer, and Dumbledore was not the only alchemist around.


	19. Chapter 19: The best of the marauders!

Chapter 19: The best of the marauders!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Additional AN: city and street names are picked at random from google maps, and may or may not have any connection to reality.**

 **1986-07-30 09:30 UTC, location unknown**

"You don't seem too happy, Sirius?", asked Penny. "You think Snape got away too easily right?"

"Damn right he did, but as long as he's unable to go back to his old ways, I don't think I will do anything. And to compensate, it really felt good to see what looks like a permanent schism between Dumbledore and Snape.

The thing that has been burning me up the **most** , all these years, is that Dumbledore spoke up on behalf of a known death-eater and got him out of a trial, while he allowed me to be chucked in without even a trial. I don't think I will ever forgive him for that, and this seems like so much poetic justice that I have a good mind to go over and gloat".

Hobby looked meaningfully at Andy, then he spoke up. "Lord Black, sir, any such gloating from anyone - not just from you - will be taken as an indication that that person had a hand in their falling out, effectively undoing that schism you just mentioned. Much better to let them both stew."

Sirius shook his head - he hadn't yet gotten used to Kreacher's changed behaviour, and now this elf not only understood but pronounced the word "schism" correctly. That was mind- _blowing_ to the old dog!

Penny noticed this, and sat down next to him.

"Sirius, this is Hobby, who belongs to the Phantom, but doesn't always stay with him. He has been explicitly instructed to speak his mind, which is great for us because Nick and I truly appreciate the company and the refreshing conversation. He has also been taught proper English, not the patois that passes for English among his kin. The Phantom communicates with us through him."

"Hmm; I should have guessed. Kreacher's behaviour became completely un-elflike after he met the Phantom. If he can do that to an elf he is not the master of, I can only imagine his effect on elves that belong to him", said Sirius.

Hobby looked at him sharply. "Lord Black, sir, has Kreacher behaved inappropriately? Would you prefer the traditional elf behaviour?"

Sirius sensed a minor trap here, for some reason. Playing safe, he said "no, that's not it. Just that I'm not used to it yet."

"Anyway", Hobby said, "my master has said that his next target is someone called Greyback, and he had a message for you, Lord Black sir. The message is 'when are you going to contact Mooney?', but he would not tell me what or who this Mooney is".

Sirius looked at Penny. "Ah, I suppose Greyback is the second one, after Bella, that he is happy to eliminate without any provocation?"

Penny nodded.

"You said this Phantom is a seer of sorts?", asked Sirius.

"That, or he has access to one; we are not quite sure".

"Hmm". Turning to Hobby, he said "Hobby, Mooney is an old friend of mine and James Potter's. He is a werewolf, but don't judge him by that - he is one of the kindest and gentlest people you will ever see.

I _have_ been looking for him, but he seems to have disappeared - considering the prejudice against werewolves, it is quite likely that he has moved to the muggle world, though because of his problem he will find it hard to hold down a job. I need to find him, and soon - I cannot imagine he is having an easy time of it, and I am sure he will need my help, even if he is too proud to take charity".

Hobby agreed with him. He would never forget his first glimpse of Mooney, which was on the train at the start of his third year. Threadbare clothes, a weary, tired, expression, not sick but not quite in the pink of health either, and on the whole as if life has been a struggle.

"My master knows how to search for people in the muggle world too, Lord Black sir! But it helps to know which city or county he may be in, to narrow down the search."

"I don't know that either, Hobby, I am sorry to say. I'm trying to remember old conversations but nothing is coming to mind about where his home may be".

"Why not ask Prof McGonagall?", asked Hobby.

Blank stare.

"Hogwarts would certainly have his address in their records, wouldn't it? Even if he is not there now, it's a place to start, isn't it?"

Shocked blank stare.

A slow turn to Penny and Nick.

"Alright, tell me, who did you transfigure into elf form and how long is this prank going to be kept up?"

Nick fell off his chair laughing. Penny would have, too, but she was a lady, and ladies do _not_ guffaw and roll about like... well, like _men_!

Once she had gotten back some control of her amusement, she told Sirius a half-truth. "Hobby is indeed a house-elf, but we've already told you the Phantom's influence on him. And what makes you think house-elves are not inherently so smart? Maybe they're all as smart, but are forced to hide it because their behaviour is expected to be completely subservient?"

Sirius stared at her in shock, while she continued. "You may not be very familiar with the muggle world, but even your elf, Kreacher, is slowly becoming closer to how the muggle nobility's human servants are. Many muggle nobles treat their servants as friends and confidants, you know, although I admit it is not universally so".

 _Maybe I should give him a few Wodehouses_ , she thought. _Naah; they're more comedy than reality. But it would shake him up a bit_ , she laughed to herself.

Anyway, they finally floo-called Prof McGonagall, who - after a brief search - reported that Mooney had been raised in a small town called Bolton, near Manchester. Having obtained that information from McGonagall, Sirius told Hobby, who said he would pass it on to his master. Hobby would then come back with whatever his master found. A lot would depend on whether Mooney stuck near his childhood haunts or went very far out, though of course his master would search London also.

* * *

 **1986-07-30 11:30 UTC, muggle Manchester**

In the form of a normal muggle, Hobby searched for and found a library in Manchester. He picked up a bunch of phone books - one for Manchester city and one each for all the neighbouring towns, including Bolton, and sat down to find Mooney.

 _Really, a name like Remus Lupin - it's not exactly 'John Smith'!_ , he thought.

(And for the n-th time he wondered about Remus's name. The family's last name was already one letter away from meaning "wolf-like", so how prescient, _as well as cruel_ , could his parents be to chose a first name that _also_ had "wolf" associations, years before he was actually bitten! It was almost as if some too-clever-by-half author had picked that name! Thank God she didn't also give him a brother called Romulus!)

He knew the chances of finding Remus in a big city were about fifty-fifty. Sure, a big city was great for anonymity - you could pretty much disappear if you wished to, especially from the magicals.

But once a month, he would need something really solid to feel comfortable staying within the city. A gentle person like Remus would never risk the lives of all the normal people there, should his wolf form ever get out of whatever confinement he chose.

Still, he started with the big phone book for Manchester.

And hit pay dirt at once!

There was only one Lupin, with an address in Epping Street, a bit less than a mile west of Manchester University. A very intriguing entry!

Hobby went back to the reference desk and asked for the Yellow Pages for Manchester city. Quickly scanning the categories for what he wanted, he found the listing. He stared at it in shock for a few moments, then chuckled to himself.

Well, it shouldn't be a surprise. Mooney was supposed to be almost as smart as his (Harry's) mother, plus he was muggle-raised, so what would someone with such unique talents do when the magical world held only painful memories and prejudice for him? Sure he could do what he and Sirius thought he was doing - live like a pauper, needing but refusing to accept charity or other help, with threadbare clothes and a hungry, underfed, look about him...

...or he could do this:

 **LUPIN INVESTIGATIONS**

 **All kinds of investigative work. Discretion guaranteed.**

 _Specialists with excellent track record in surveillance, counter-surveillance, and short-term close protection. Good track record in related activities such as hostage negotiation and extraction. Side interest in investigating and debunking claims of paranormal activity - we charge less for interesting cases._

 _References available on request - we have helped peers of the realm, diplomats, and Square Mile high-flyers, as well as indigent scholars with unusual problems (sorry we can't say more!)._

 **The more dangerous it is, the more you'll want us looking into it.**

 _(Sorry, we do not undertake routine cases such as marital infidelity or similar.)_

Of course, there was the same Epping Street address here, and the same phone number.

Hobby was impressed. This was the _perfect_ job for a smart wizard who had been cursed to be a werewolf. Stay mostly away from the magical world, set his own hours, be his own boss, and use magic discreetly when needed (he had no illusions that Mooney was not doing so; some of the items on the list pretty much guaranteed that!)

And the last line lifted him from the stereotypical low-grade private eye category - brilliant!

On an impulse, Hobby decided to visit Epping Street and look up Mooney _before_ he went back and reported to Sirius.

* * *

 **1986-07-30 09:30 UTC, Epping Street, Manchester**

Lupin Investigations was not hard to find, once you came to Epping Street. It occupied a suite of four rooms on the second floor of a simple, four-storey, office building, about half-way down the street.

Hobby entered quietly and invisibly, and quickly found Mooney in what looked like a mini conference room. What he saw, at first, pleased him greatly - it made him feel good.

Mooney was smartly dressed, looked healthy and affluent, and definitely happy. He was giving some instructions to what Hobby could only assume was his "team", and it was clear that his team liked him and respected him, and that they all shared a very friendly, informal, relationship.

"Marcy, you should take charge of the Highgate case; we need to know what the man's secretary is hiding, and who he is dealing with when he gets off the clock. Danny, you can start doing the prep work for the Whatley matter - skirt around the edges until you get to grips with all the players. There are some there who can make all of us _disappear_ if they really get annoyed!"

"Yes boss, don't worry. You're new at this, but I've been doing this longer than you, don't forget", said a young man.

"Yeah right, all of two months more than me!", laughed Mooney.

Hobby suddenly thought of something that made him very worried, and he stopped listening to their discussion to think better. The worry was this: although it was great to find Mooney so happy and healthy, there were two glaring points that didn't fit.

First, why was the Mooney in his third year so diametrically opposite to this one in health and wealth. His arrival back in time was not supposed to change anything _before_ he arrived, so this must have been what _his_ Mooney was like too, at least in _his_ 1986\. What had happened between then and 1993 to turn him into that indigent man with all those scars and an under-nourished look about him?

And second, why did this Mooney appear to be actually _happy_ \- after all he had basically lost all his friends just under five years ago. Was five years long enough to get out of that funk? Even if he did not expect Mooney to suffer hunger and poverty, he had expected him to have a fair bit of residual sadness in his overall demeanour. This one was positively euphoric.

In any case, he needed to get Sirius here, have him re-establish contact with Mooney, get Mooney over to the Flamels, and start discussing Greyback. Time enough to ponder the mystery of Mooney while this was happening, and who knows, he may get some answers in due course.

* * *

 **1986-07-30 16:30 UTC, Epping Street, Manchester**

Sirius turned out not to be so ignorant of muggle clothing styles and general deportment as Hobby was fearing. When Hobby went back shortly after lunch and told him what his master had found, he wanted to just rush off. However, Harry was asleep, and Sirius hated to go anywhere without telling Harry where he was going and when he would be back.

When Harry woke up around 4pm, he listened to Sirius talk about "Remus", and didn't react. But at some point Sirius said "Mooney", and Harry caught it. "Mooey? I 'member Mooey, I want to come too." And _nothing_ any of the four people (well, three people and an elf-man anyway) could do or say would dissuade him.

On balance, Sirius thought this was probably all to the good. Mooney had clearly chosen to get well away from the magical world, so he may not know Sirius was innocent. Having a happy, healthy, five year-old Harry with him would go a long way to helping Mooney calm down and reassure him he, Sirius, was not the bad guy here.

And so Harry and Sirius, with Hobby invisibly accompanying them ( _I really must go visit Malfoy Manor once in a while - I'm supposed to be working there! Oh well, Nolly would have told me if he had had problems covering for me. But I owe him big-time!_ ), entered the reception room of Lupin Investigations.

Sirius was in his element. He put on his most charming smile, and said, "Hello, young lady! I don't have an appointment, but I need to see Mr Lupin urgently on a personal matter. Is he in?"

Before she could reply, Mooney walked out of one of the two doors behind the reception desk, and greeted Sirius warmly with a heartfelt hug. Including Harry in the hug. Sirius was shocked! He had expected at least some fireworks, long explanations, and having to prove - somehow - that he was innocent. Yet here was Mooney behaving as if all that was done.

Harry was thrilled. He simply held out his arms to Mooney, and Mooney picked him up and swung him around, laughing. Harry squealed "Unca Mooey, stop!", but he was clearly enjoying it.

Hobby had tears in his eyes. To be honest, he could not remember remembering "Pafoo" and "Mooey". Perhaps the Dursleys had beaten even those few memories out of him by the time he was of Hogwarts age. _Or perhaps_ , he thought angrily, _Dumbledore had something to do with both my memories as well as Remus going downhill_.

Close on that painful thought was an epiphany. It was not how many death-eaters he eliminated, it was not how many horcruxes he destroyed, or anything like that. It was how much of the one year-old Harry he could preserve, that he needed to measure his success with. And Harry remembering "Pafoo" and "Mooey" was definitely very high on the list.

* * *

Eventually, they all calmed down. Mooney gave his staff the rest of the day off ("yeah right, it's almost closing time anyway", grumbled someone called Terry, but it was clear he was only teasing Mooney!), and they all went to a small, quiet, restaurant that Mooney knew, to catch up.

"I was really expecting to have a gun shoved in my face, you know", said Sirius. "I thought you'd left the wizarding world and would not have known. I guess you're still in touch with people there?"

"Nope. Not a one. I made one attempt - I'll tell you about that later - but after that, nothing. However, I did buy a wizarding radio so I could listen to the news every day. Every day, once a day, without fail for all these years. And the absolute best news I ever heard was on February 27th!", grinned Mooney. "Well, March 11 was pretty good too - Dumbledore losing two of his three positions was brilliant!"

 _Aha, that explains his happiness_ , thought Harry. It is very likely that before Sirius's exoneration he was at least somewhat depressed. But not too much - you can't really run a business, and that too one so obviously successful as this - if you were too depressed.

"Yeah me too, mate, me too!", said Sirius. "By the way, you seem to be doing pretty well - I was worried you would be..." - here he tailed off, not knowing how to say what he was thinking.

"You thought I would be in whatever shape the wizarding world allows werewolves to be in". There was no need to elaborate.

Then he continued. "And you would have been right. But something happened early on. I was in that situation for the first few weeks after... well you know". He took a sip of his water. "But then I decided that I would at least be a part of Harry's life, I owed him that much, so I went to see Dumbledore".

"Let me guess. He gave you a long spiel about Harry's safety and basically told you to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of there?"

"Pretty much. He laid a huge guilt trip on me, but in the end refused to even tell me where Harry was. He said, 'he is safe in the muggle world, and I have laid charms so that no wizard can get near his home without my knowing about it'."

"And that just made me much more miserable", he continued. "The one little thing that could have saved me was gone, and I was indeed all set to basically become a drunk werewolf, with all the charm, grace, cleanliness, and affluence that implies!", he laughed.

"So how did you escape that?"

"Anger. I was more angry at Dumbledore - especially the guilt trip he laid on me, you know I hate that! - then I was depressed at the turn of events. And then I played back what he said in my mind."

"Hmm?", said Sirius, but Hobby had got it. Oh man Mooney deserved some sort of award for pulling himself out of his funk and doing this!

"Harry was safe in the muggle world, and no wizard can get near him. I needed to do two things: find him, and entice some muggles to get him out of there."

Sirius was slack-jawed. He was finally, finally, connecting the dots. The private investigator business. Hostage extraction. Surveillance and counter-surveillance. Building up and leading a team of muggles who could do all that. **_WOW!_** , he thought.

Unknowingly mirroring Hobby's thoughts, he said, "Oh man, you are **awesome**. You are truly the best marauder! I hope James and Lily are watching from up there! How far did you get?"

"My first year and a bit were spent learning the craft from someone I had helped out of a tight spot unexpectedly - saved his life actually. He also helped me get licensed, and mentored me until I had a few cases down. Of course he didn't know I was a wizard, so he was terribly impressed by how a couple of them had been handled.

The next couple of years were spent building up a team, and then I could really get into it. Within a few months - the beginning of last year, really - I had found him, but did not dare to approach too closely. I have been building up a dossier on Dursley - investigating Grunnings and his job there - in order to find some leverage. Speaking of Dursley, how did you get rid of him?"

"I just threw money at the problem and sent him off to America! As I said, you are truly the best marauder!", grinned Sirius. "You know, I almost think it would have been worth a few more years in Azkaban to see that old ba- ahem! - goat's face if you _had_ pulled off a muggle extraction! He would have been completely and utterly clueless. Unlike now, when he at least knows where Harry is!"

(Hobby wasn't so sure of that, knowing that things hadn't panned out this way earlier. Perhaps Mooney _had_ managed to make contact, but Dumbledore had surely found out somehow, and taken some really drastic steps, including a serious amount of memory modification, on both himself and Mooney. Again, there was no easy way to prove it any more, but he was pretty sure that was the explanation.)

The two friends and their godson/nephew spent the evening pleasantly. Hobby left after some time. He was worried that he would start becoming jealous of this Harry if he stayed too long ( _I'm only human!_ , he thought. Then _oops, not really!_ ). More importantly, he had found the answer to the second question - why Mooney was so happy - but he had no clue what had happened between 1986 and 1993 in his timeline. _I guess we will never know, now. Oh well..._ , and he silently popped away.

Meanwhile, Mooney accepted an invite to Penny and Nick's place. Tomorrow evening they would discuss weightier matters.


	20. Chapter 20: Where's that were

Chapter 20: Where's that were?

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Additional AN: city and street names are picked at random from google maps, and may or may not have any connection to reality.**

 **1986-07-31 21:00 UTC, location unknown**

Today was a particularly tiring day - the good kind of tiring, full of laughter and fun for the little kid. Mooney had been introduced to Nick and Penny, as well as Hobby. Nick and Penny had had a good laugh at Mooney's plans for "extracting" Harry - once again, the pureblood world's (and Dumbledore was as pure as they come!) ignorance and disregard of the muggle world would have shown itself to be a very powerful weapon.

Sirius and Harry had been practically living at Nick and Penny's place for some time now. Nick and Penny had given them an open invitation to actually _move_ there if they wished. Nick had set up a replica bedroom for Harry so he would feel at home, and there was no shortage of spare rooms for Sirius.

Harry had been overjoyed; all he asked was if Kreacher could be with him if he (Kreacher) wished, and of course that was fine with Nick and Penny. (Sure, Kreacher had spent a lot of time cleaning up Grimmauld for Harry, and if he were human he would have been at least mildly annoyed at all that effort going to waste, but it is not in an elf's nature to feel negatively about excess work, even if it appeared to have gone waste.)

Sirius, while he did not come right out and accept the invitation and actually _move_ , nevertheless spent a lot of time there. He probably spent two nights a week, if that, at Grimmauld, and even then he would come back to Nick and Penny's place well before lunchtime.

And so it was here, rather than at Grimmauld, that Remus found himself sitting back after a pleasant dinner, at the end of a long day, shooting the breeze, as it were. A rare luxury for him, and he said so.

"This is a rare treat for me, being able to relax like this", he said. "My workdays have been very long; success has a price! And then, before you pre-empted me, my search for Harry, and investigating Dursley, had been taking up an inordinate amount of time, and my team was carrying a lot of my load, all without a word of complaint, mind!

Since my priority was that Harry should be happy, once I realised he _was_ away from those horrible people and with you, the urgency disappeared, so I had to pay back my loyal team for the extra load they had been taking. And so I kept putting off the trip to Diagon Alley's post office to send you an owl. I mean, I would have visited, but about the same time as all this happened, I realised I suddenly could not remember where you lived!"

"Aah yes the Fidelius. Sorry about that. Anyway, have you managed to catch up on your work a bit now?"

"Yes, I have. And it's good that I got these four months to do that, so now I can spend a bit more time with you and Harry than I could have if we had met up in March. At least not without feeling even more guilty for the extra load on my team!", he laughed.

Sirius just smiled in acknowledgement. He was happy. Harry was with him, as happy and carefree as a child could be whose parents had been murdered. His other best friend was back, and despite being a werewolf, appeared to be in good shape.

Life was good.

* * *

After a tired and sleepy Harry had been sent off to bed, tucked in, and kissed goodnight by Penny, the elf-man decided to broach an important topic.

"Lord Black sir, Mr Mooney sir, I have things to tell you, and my master needs your help, Mr Mooney sir, with something".

Mooney had just barely got used to this elf, but then he was not a pureblood so it wasn't such a big deal to him, so he just nodded for Hobby to continue.

"My master has so far eliminated four bad wizards", said Hobby. _Best to stick to the public record; no need to bring Macnair into the story_. "Crouch junior and the three Lestranges. He intends to eliminate the most violent and rabid of Voldemort's followers as soon as possible".

He saw the shocked expression on Sirius and Mooney's faces. A somewhat liberated house-elf was unusual enough, one who spoke like a normal person even more so, but most _wizards_ would shy away from saying that name. Even for Sirius, who had by now started thinking of Hobby as a completely different category of being (an elf who thinks and speaks like a wizard - he had no idea how close he was to the truth!), this was a bit much.

Nick decided to cover for Hobby. "Umm, he picked that up from both us _and_ , presumably, his master. None of us are afraid of his name. Anyway it's a made up name, so let's get back to the topic".

Dobby smiled in relief. He had not needed to watch his speech here because he was known to speak proper English, not the house-elf patois, so he had not even been thinking about what he was saying. Anyway, what's done is done, plus this would have happened sooner or later.

"There are two main non-wizard targets that have potential to cause enormous trouble, according to my master. The first is Fenrir Greyback. My master intends to eliminate him cleanly, without any fuss. To be clear, he may not have eliminated Crouch junior and the Lestrange brothers if they had not attacked the Longbottoms; Bellatrix was the only one he had initiated action against".

Mooney could not think of what to say. To get revenge on Greyback had long been a dream of his, but he had pretty much given up on it. Now it seemed like it could be done.

While he was pondering this, Sirius asked, "What's the second target?"

"The dementors, but there is plenty of time for that. We would like to finish this one first. Mr Mooney sir, we need your help finding him. My master does not have any resources that can help with that".

"What will your master do once he is found?"

"Greyback will be quietly eliminated."

"Isn't that a little unfair? Should we not at least get him in a fair fight?"

"Did you get a fair fight when you were six? Please don't spout Dumbledore's idealistic crap, my master is very low on patience for such people", Hobby's eyes flashed brilliant green for a moment, making both the Marauders blink and stare. This was **definitely** not your normal house-elf; just how much had his elusive master influenced him?

Mooney recovered, and asked, "How will I inform him once he is found?"

"You will simply call for me, I will come. In fact, I may come with you anyway. After that I will deal with how to get that information to my master". _Why am I not telling these people also about elves being able to pop people?_ , wondered Hobby. But for some reason, he felt compelled to keep the "blind spot" a secret still.

"I would not like to have an elf tagging along", said Mooney.

"If you can detect that I am tagging along, Mr Mooney sir, I will gladly leave you alone", smirked Hobby.

"OK; I will find him. I must tell you it may take time; I have allowed all of my relationships to die out, and I don't know any werewolves any more. I'll need to re-establish contact, gain their confidence, and so on."

"Hmm", said Sirius. "This means no one in the wizarding world knows you and I have met up again, right?"

"Yes".

"Then it's best _I_ search for _you_."

"Oh that's a good idea", said Mooney. "You can find a few weres that way, then we can approach them together a bit later. Starting out asking for Greyback won't help, but asking for me would be harmless enough!"

Sirius had a question. "By the way, how are you managing the full moons?"

"Even a wolfsbane controlled change would have left some scars - why do you think I have none? Would you believe a strong muggle sleeping pill suppresses even the transformation? My guess is that I am so out of it there isn't enough consciousness to change."

This time even Penny and Nick were intrigued. Clearly this was something they had not considered or heard of. Maybe a powerful sleeping spell, or even the stasis charm, might do the same! They would have to research this.

"How did you think of it?", asked Nick.

"Quite by chance actually, and it's a long story, so maybe some other time", said Mooney, sleepily. "Time to go home; I'll see you all soon, if not tomorrow", he said, and left.

* * *

 **1986-08-01 11:00 UTC, the Leaky Cauldron**

The next day, Sirius went to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Good morning sir, what can I do for you", said old Tom.

"Hello! My name is Sirius Black, and I would like some information."

"Oh, of course, Lord Black, forgive me for not recognising you - the light here, and my age, I suppose! what can I do for you?", said the man, visibly straightening up a bit. Seems the old Black Magic was still strong, even if it was only ever a psychological - not magical - thing!

"Well, it's no secret who my two best friends in school were, I'm sure. And there's only one of them left alive. I need to find him."

"I don't understand, Lord Black".

"Well, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, you see, and I was hoping you'd know of him, or - if not that - someone else who may in turn be able to lead me to him."

"Aah, I see. Well, sir, no one of that name has been in. But there are a few who pop in from time to time. Two of them have some digs just inside Knockturn, if you would like to go there yourself, or you could come back the day after the next full moon; they always come here for lunch the day after".

"Why is that, may I ask?"

Tom looked a wee bit embarrassed. "Well sir, this isn't something I can afford to do for all of them, nor can I afford it to be publicised, but for the few that I know and have grown to trust, I offer them free meals on the day after the full moon. I wish I could do more, but there's a limit to how much I can spend".

"That is mighty decent of you, Tom. I wish the rest of the magical world were as broad-minded as you!"

"Well sir, I wish all the weres were as gentle as the ones who I help", said Tom sadly.

"As compensation for being cursed with a dark family, I have been blessed with more money than I know what to do with. Could I help you with that, allow more weres to be helped?"

"That is a very generous offer Lord Black, I will gladly accept!", said Tom, brightening up some more.

"I will ask Gringotts to work out the details, maybe open up an account for that. Meanwhile, I will see you the day after the next full moon; I would prefer to meet them here than barge in on their territory, however nice they may be."

* * *

Some days later, Sirius met the two weres that Tom had mentioned. Ray Ashfield and Danny Currier both looked so young you could not help feel some sympathy for them; clearly some of the more recent victims, and young enough not to have been hardened by their lot.

The first thing he did was establish that he was on their side.

"Hello, may I speak with you for a few minutes? My name is Sirius Black, by the way".

Danny looked apprehensive, but the polite tone that Sirius used, and what appeared to be a genuine smile, helped. Plus it was Tom who had brought him to their table, and if they couldn't trust Tom, after all these months of his kindness, whom could they trust?

"What can we do for you, Lord Black?"

"Well, I am looking for a friend, whom I have lost contact with due to my being illegally sent to Azkaban all those years ago. His name is Remus Lupin".

The two weres looked blank. The trial and events around Lord Black's exoneration were well publicised, but Remus's name had not come out.

Sirius decided to explain. "Remus was bitten by Greyback when he was six. I know you won't hold that against him; we never did anyway", he grinned.

"Why are you looking for him?"

"Well, he is the only of my two best friends in school who is alive today. I would very much like to get back in touch with him. And then there's my godson Harry to consider - it would be nice to have his 'Unca Mooney' back in his life", said Sirius, with a bit of a sentimental expression on his face.

"The boy-who-lived? Does he know your friend is a werewolf?"

"Well Harry is too young to know what it even means, but his parents certainly knew and had no problem with it, so - when he does find out - why should he?"

That was clearly the right thing to say. The boy-who-lived, and by association his godfather, had a certain cachet in their world, and acceptance from them was something to feel very good about.

"Well, we have not heard of or met him, but we will put the word out. We'll send word to Tom here if we hear some news of him."

"Thank you. Meanwhile I can see that Tom has a good heart, and I offered to help him make sure that his kindness reaches more people. Check with Tom in about a week, and he will tell you how to spread the word about that too".

He waved a cheery goodbye and walked out.

* * *

"Hobby, this is going to take a bit longer. The only two I could find so far, are far too innocent to know where Greyback hangs out. We need to move up the chain, so to speak, and find more hardened weres."

"That's alright Lord Black sir, we can afford the time. It's a good thing he is lying low too, so that reduces - though it does not completely eliminate - the urgency."

* * *

 **1986-08-14 09:00 UTC, location unknown**

"Good morning, Lord Black sir, can I get you some breakfast", asked Hobby as soon as Sirius came in through the floo. Harry was already at breakfast, having spent last night at his "aunt" Penny and "uncle" Nick's home. (Hobby still got a laugh out of their reaction when he suggested Harry should call them "grandma" and "grandpa" - it was both funny and scary at the same time!)

"No thanks Hobby, I've eaten. Wouldn't say no to a cup of tea though", said Sirius.

"Tea. Earl Gray. Hot. Coming right up Lord Black sir".

Sirius gave him a puzzled look but did not say anything. _Well he's a pureblood; he wouldn't have got the reference_ , thought Hobby. (Actually, Hobby himself did not realise that, in 1986, even muggles would not have got it!)

After they'd settled down, Hobby broached the subject of Harry needing muggle schooling to round out his education. He got another curious look and a question from Sirius.

"Hobby, why is your master getting into this? I thought he was only interested in catching and stopping the bad guys before they did anything more?", he asked.

"It's not just a matter of interest, Lord Black sir. Seer, remember? There are some things that my master knows must happen, and getting Master Harry a well-rounded education is one of them".

"Hmm, I can't argue with that, if at least because Lily would have wanted it that way. She always did say we were too insulated from the bigger world outside ours. So I need to go and find a good muggle school. Your master wouldn't have any thoughts on that would he?"

Hobby grinned. For someone who was not used to an elf grinning, it would look strange, but Sirius had almost stopped thinking of him like an elf most times.

"Yes of course, Lord Black sir, he knows the perfect school. But first, you have to buy, and move into, a certain house in Crawley in London."

"Look Hobby, I'm very grateful to your master for rescuing me from Azkaban, for killing Bella, and I suppose those other three as well, and of course for putting the fear of God into the death-eaters. And I can understand being driven by a seer to some extent, and I do realise those things cannot always be _explained_.

But there's a limit. I do not think seers see so clearly as to determine a specific house, so something else is going on here. At this point I'm going to insist I have to meet your master and have him explain why he is being so specific."

Hobby looked at him with a little bit of consternation on his face. "Well sir, my master tries not to meet anyone, and even if he does, he obscures his face. There's an old curse on my master. It is said that _He who sees the Phantom's face, dies a horrible death_ ". (He almost added "Old jungle saying", under his breath, but stopped himself in time! Anyway, only a muggleborn would have understood the joke - and not all muggleborns either - so he felt safe enough).

"What he can do, Lord Black sir, is to write to you if you prefer that mode. Or you can communicate through me as we have been doing till now - you know my master keeps no secrets from me.

For instance, the answer to your question is that the seer did not, of course, identify the house. It is just that the school is important - he must start his pre-Hogwarts muggle education there. Once that was known, he looked for a house that would satisfy a bunch of requirements: it should be large, it should be off the main streets, enough that children could play without worrying about traffic and so on, and it should have some degree of privacy. He found what he feels would be the perfect place, and he is sure you and Master Harry will like it.

Schools will be starting soon, and this is the perfect time for a young godfather to buy and move into a new home that offers his godson a good primary education", he finished.

"So, let's go, what are we waiting for?"

* * *

Well that was easier said than done. Even if Hobby were willing to reveal to them that a house-elf could pop wizards to places, the fact is this was deep in muggle territory and apparating in without checking the area first would be a bit of a risk.

( _Hmm, I wonder how the professors do this when they have to visit muggleborns, like Prof McGonagall visited Hermione. Where do they apparate to? How do they know it is safe? It's not as if they're able to blend in with the muggle world!_ , thought Hobby. Yet another mystery to be solved.)

Eventually they called Remus and asked him to drive up to Grimmauld in a car so they could all go to Crawley. He drove up in a nice rented car, plush insides, but not magical of course. Harry sat in the back, with Hobby, disillusioned, beside him. Sirius rode "shotgun", as the Americans would say.

The drive took a long time - more than an hour actually - making Sirius grumble a little, but not much. He was fascinated by the glimpses of muggle London, as who wouldn't, if they had never seen it before.

The deal went through quickly enough, thanks to Gringotts, and Sirius was soon the proud owner of a large-ish, detached, house on a small but well kept side street called Kithurst Close, populated by upper-middle class people - mostly professionals or people with white-collar businesses, it appeared. Two- or three-storey homes were the norm, as were two- or three-car garages. The street ended on their left, but on their right, their next door neighbours appeared to be a young couple, both dentists, with a daughter about Harry's age.


	21. Chapter 21: Interlude - Crawley

Chapter 21: Interlude - Crawley

 **For general disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. However, this chapter has an extended AN at the end; it just seemed necessary at this point.**

 **1986 August, Kithurst Close, Crawley**

Harry and his unusual family - a godfather who he lived with, and an aunt and two uncles who visited often - had settled down fairly well. He would still go to aunt Penny and uncle Nick's place sometimes, but more often than not, they would visit. And uncle Mooney would spend all his spare time here; if he wasn't here he was working.

It had taken the adults very little time to explain to him that Hobby and Kreacher could not be seen here, and indeed anything to do with the world of magic was to be kept carefully guarded from his neighbours. They had not told him Hobby may be around, watching invisibly (though not all the time); he had told them his master had ordered him to make sure Harry was safe, although they had countered that the muggle world was incomprehensible to most purebloods.

Nevertheless, Hobby had insisted, and was there a lot. Over the next few days, he helped Harry understand how to use the TV remote (Harry having never been allowed by the Dursleys even to look at the thing!), and the telephone. He found the best places for the occasional dinner treat - like at Grimmauld, he appeared to know what Harry's favourite foods were - and often joined them invisibly and quietly if the place was not too crowded. He didn't seem to be at all confused by the muggle world.

Speaking of the muggle world, it seemed that living for six centuries was enough to make sure you were an expert in pretty much everything, so Nick and Penny were quite at home in the muggle world, too. Nick even admitted he had a couple of expensive cars lying around somewhere, and had enjoyed driving them in days gone by.

So that left Sirius the only one of the little group that had to catch up on muggle life.

* * *

Harry had also made a new friend - Hermione, his next door neighbour. The girl was almost a year older than him, but she was in the same class as him (the adults had explained it as something to do with which month you were born in). She had walked up to Sirius on their second day here, when they were getting acquainted with their front yard/garden, and introduced herself.

"Hello, my name is Hermione, and I live next door. Welcome to Kithurst Close; I hope we can be friends", and she stuck her hand out solemnly for Sirius to shake.

Sirius shook her hand, while Hobby shook silently with laughter. _Good old Hermione_ , he thought.

"Hello Hermione, it's nice to meet you, and thank you for making us welcome. My name is Sirius, and this is my godson Harry". At which Hermione turned to Harry, and offered him a handshake too, which he accepted with a shy smile, and a quiet "Nice to meet you too Hermione".

Hermione's parents had come out of their house at that point, seen what their daughter was up to, and had walked over to introduce themselves too. In the two weeks that they had had before school started, they had become good friends, and spent at least a few hours every day in each other's company, either in her house or his.

Neither of them had had any friends before this, of course, which explained why they had become so close in such a short time.

Hermione found a quiet, potentially studious, boy whose godfather doted on him, but did not unduly spoil him. Harry was polite, gentle, and - when you could bring it out of him - had a wonderful smile that lit up his face. And when this happened from something she said or did, she felt really good about herself.

Harry found Hermione to be something like himself, except a few years older, despite that she was actually only about 10 months older than him. She was sophisticated enough to speak to adults like a young lady, she was extremely studious, and she was equally polite and gentle. Her parents doted just as much on her, too. She had a gorgeous smile, though she did not appear to know it. Her teeth stuck out a wee bit, but in Harry's mind that only made her smile brighter.

It was during these two weeks that Harry also found out about her school life.

"Harry, I need to tell you something. You'll find out as soon as we start school anyway. You see, I don't have any friends at school. They call me 'buckteeth bookworm' and other nasty names. I also don't enjoy the childish games they play so that makes things worse."

"Do they hit you?"

"Well no, they're a bit young for that level of cruelty I guess, but I wouldn't put it past one or two of the older ones at some point in the future."

Harry did not need any time to think of what he should say. He gave her a sideways hug and said, "Hermione, you know I never had any friends either". He smiled at her visible relief, hugging her tighter. "I promise you that you will have at least one friend at school".

* * *

 **1986-09-18 11:00 UTC, Northport Primary School, Crawley**

Soon after school started, Harry found one big difference between himself and Hermione.

Hermione was a fighter. Not that Harry himself could not or would not fight if needed, but mainly, he was shy, and favoured discretion to confrontation. Hermione's _first_ instinct was to fight - though so far it had only been verbal.

So far.

One day, a boy, who was evidently one of her tormentors in the previous year, decided he did not like the bucktoothed bookworm having a friend. Tommy Dane was a bit large for his age, and decided that physical strength was a good thing to have, and it was time he used it.

He walked up to Harry, and said "Hey runt, you shouldn't hang around with the bucktooth bookworm", pointing to Hermione. "You should be with the rest of us".

Harry shook his head and quietly said "Sorry, but you don't get to tell me whom to be friends with. I haven't known you even half as long as I've known her, and you don't know either of us a third as much as we know each other."

While Tommy was trying to work out what Harry had just said, Hermione took Harry's arm and said "Harry, when you speak to people like Tommy, use shorter sentences with simpler words. It's like talking to a baboon in a zoo - they can understand 'banana' and 'water' but anything more takes time".

For some reason, Tommy understood _this_. He grabbed Hermione's other hand and pulled her forward to face him square, inadvertently shoving Harry to the side.

Hermione simply stared at him. From the corner of her eye she could see a teacher looking at the confrontation, probably trying to decide if he should get involved or stay out and let the kids handle it. There was something to be said on both sides, and, in any case, Hermione knew he may not be fast enough to prevent something if Tommy decided to up the ante.

"Bad baboon, no banana for you today", said Hermione. "Let go of my hand". Tommy tightened his grip on her right hand, and swung at her with his right.

Unfortunately, Harry tried to block the fist, and took it in the face. His glasses went flying, and a bruise could be seen on the left side of his face.

Hermione shook off the bully's grip and went to help Harry. Another girl handed her his glasses, which had broken when they fell. Hermione gave them to Harry and said "I'm sorry Harry, but we'll get them fixed this evening. Are you OK otherwise? Does it hurt?"

"Yes I'm OK", said Harry. It wasn't a very powerful hit - Tommy was not yet a seasoned bully. He was sure Dudley could have landed a bigger one.

Once she was sure Harry would be OK, Hermione rounded on Tommy. By this time, of course, a bunch of kids had gathered round; pretty much everyone on the playground was there. The teacher who was watching had had his dilemma resolved, so he had started walking toward them, but not hurrying. He still seemed to want to see how the kids would handle this, though he appeared less sure of leaving it at that completely.

"So you think it's OK to hit a girl, do you? You know what I think of people who hit girls?"

Tommy stayed silent. This was his first experience at physical intimidation, and, although he had hit someone, it wasn't who he wanted to hit and intimidate. And this one seemed to be quite the opposite of intimidated.

Before he could think any more, Hermione socked him one on the jaw. Whether the girl had picked up the rudiments of boxing, or it was pure luck, no one would ever know, but Tommy saw stars. He went down with a cry of fear and surprise.

"Don't like it when someone does it to you, do you? If you _ever_ try to hit me or Harry ever again, in fact, if you try to hit _anyone_ , I will make you suffer. Play nice, and be nice, and we'll all get along", she cautioned him.

The teacher had reached the group just as Hermione ended her speech. That last line probably saved her some trouble of her own; he merely looked at her with a curious expression on his face and took Tommy away.

* * *

That evening, after they had gone to an optometrist and gotten his eyes checked (just in case) and had the glasses replaced, Harry and Hermione were sitting on Harry's front porch. Harry seemed unsure of how to ask what he wanted to ask her, but eventually he just blurted it out.

"Hermione, where did you learn to fight like that and talk like that?"

"I don't really know Harry, but I read a lot, and we do have a lot of self-help type books at home, even about martial arts".

"What are 'martial arts'?", asked Harry.

"Things to do with fighting. Like karate, judo, and so on. I mean, I've read about a lot of them but never actually practiced any. Maybe I should join some after-school classes", she tailed off.

"If you do, I would like to join you too, Hermione".

"Sure, let me talk to my parents".

* * *

 **Author Note**

Apologies for a really short chapter. I'll take some space for an AN, because, despite having said I won't do that, there are some things that need to be said.

A big thank you to everyone for your reviews. I am truly humbled by the positive comments and the thoughtful criticism. I'm slowly learning that writing a good story is more than just good English grammar and spelling, and your reviews are an important part of that learning for me. (Plus I was absolutely flabbergasted to see ApAidan reviewing my story. Wow!)

Responses to important questions will appear - where possible - in some subsequent chapter, worked into the text as dialog or thought (example: my response to the "Jack the Ripper" analogy that someone made, is in ch15, toward the end).

For a couple of questions where that is not immediately possible, or would be too contrived, here are some responses. Please forgive the brevity and the lack of names. (1) Courtroom fail: I agree, but canon isn't much better. Heck one guy was chucked in without even a trial ;-) (2) DMLE checking for compulsions: same argument. Also, the compulsion that Hobby laid on Delores was only to go and offer to do _something_ ; the choice of what to do, and to whom, and the decision to actually go through with it, were her own actions. (3) Secret-keeper living in the same house: good catch; but by now you know they moved out anyway. The Fidelius was for protection from Dumbledore, not the death-eaters, so once he is neutralised it's not a factor.


	22. Chapter 22: Tracking down a were

Chapter 22: Tracking down a were

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Additional AN: I didn't really check the full moon dates claimed here.**

 **1986-09-11 11:00 UTC, the Leaky Cauldron**

Sirius walked into the Leaky the day after the next full moon. He knew, from Tom, that there would be several weres here today, and although they may not be able to tell him anything about Mooney, they may know of Greyback.

Danny Currier saw him enter, and waved to him cheerily. _Looks like I'm a hit with these guys_ , smirked Sirius to himself.

"Hey Danny, how're you doing? Where's Ray?", he asked.

"I'm very well Lord Black. As for Ray, I think he just stepped out for something; he'll be back soon enough".

"So, have any of you found my friend Remus Lupin?", smirked Sirius, as if at a private joke.

"Umm, no Lord Black. In fact we could find only a few who even knew him, but then we're all a bit younger, and I dare say there would be others outside our circles who knew him. We need to ask around some more", said Danny.

"I would have been surprised if you had found him. Remus had pretty much gone muggle, and yes I did find him. In fact, he should be joining us soon. He wanted to meet you guys, find out how you were doing, etc."

And at that moment Remus walked in. Waving a cheery hello to Tom, he came straight to the table at which Sirius was sitting, grabbed an unoccupied chair across from him and sat down.

"Hello everyone, my name is Remus Lupin", he introduced himself. "Sirius found me a week or so ago, and we both decided we should visit you guys today".

There were about a dozen of them. Every single one was staring at Remus in shock. For a werewolf to be so affluent - which he clearly was, from the cut and cloth of his muggle suit - and, even more surprising, to be so apparently unaffected by last night's full moon, was unheard of.

"Mr Lupin-", began Ray, who had walked in a bare couple of seconds behind Remus.

"Please call me Remus".

"And call me Sirius, please", interrupted Sirius. "Being called 'Lord Black', considering all the people who had held that title, makes me feel very uncomfortable". Then he nodded to Ray to continue.

"Thank you Remus and Sirius. What I was going to ask you, Remus, is this: I can see you can afford wolfsbane, but even with wolfsbane you'd be more affected by last night than you seem to be. It's almost as if you've been cured, but that's not possible, is it?", said Ray. Then, before Remus could speak, he said "I'm Ray, by the way, and this is Danny, and I'll let the others introduce themselves by and by".

Remus nodded at both of them in introduction. "No I'm sorry Ray I've not been cured. What I have found is that a certain muggle sleeping pill - a very strong one, I might add - appears to completely suppress everything. You're effectively dead to the world, just barely breathing, and with - I can only assume - not enough consciousness to even transform".

Danny looked very hopeful. "Is that as expensive as wolfsbane? And does it have any side-effects? I know lots of muggle drugs have side effects, and you have to often take _other_ medicines to curtail them".

"Muggle-raised, are you? So was I; my mother was a muggle. And to answer your question, it's a tad expensive but nowhere near wolfsbane. And I can easily afford to supply all of you. But there are three things to bear in mind", he said.

"First: it's a restricted drug, naturally. Supplies are limited. A doctor who owes me his life, prescribes them for me. He does not know who I really am or why I need this, but he trusts me enough to not ask questions. I'll try and figure out some way to get more of them but the muggles have pretty good systems, and if they figure out the consumption of this drug has increased dramatically, they may start investigating. We do **not** want that".

Sirius had a thought. "We should build contacts in countries which treat weres with dignity, and are possibly spending huge amounts on wolfsbane. If we tell them this, they may figure out some above-board way to get it from their muggle contacts. Our price will be the very reasonable one that they supply us too - and we'll even pay, so it's not a bad deal at all for them".

"Great idea; see if Nick can help there, will you?", said Remus. Then he continued, "Second, you'll need to find a place where you are sure of being safe. You will be in no position to defend yourself if someone does. Sirius, can we use one of your properties for that?"

"Sure; we can ward it to hell and back, then I can make portkeys for all of you."

"Great. The third point is that Danny is right. This drug very likely has side-effects. But I believe they only kick in if you take it, like, once a day or something, certainly not once a month. Still, we should watch for symptoms; we can't be absolutely sure of this in the really long term".

Sirius had a question. "How many weres are in the UK?", he asked.

"I suspect a few dozen; maybe fifty or sixty? Of those, I think about seven or eight are mini-Greybacks. It's not clear to me whether they follow Voldemort, and hence Greyback, or the other way around, but anyway, they won't accept either wolfsbane or this new stuff. The only thing that's stopping them from arbitrarily infecting people is that their 'lord' is gone".

"So if we spread the word, should these kids", as some of them were really not much older than kids, "expect retaliation of some kind?"

"Maybe, but we can take care of ourselves if we all stick together", said Danny. "They're much more powerful but numbers count!"

"Yeah. Quantity has a quality all its own!", smirked Remus.

* * *

A few days later, things were all set. All the weres who were recommended by Ray and Danny - about forty of them - were given portkeys to a Black estate that was behind some excellent wards, and basically consisted of a run-down manor with a few surrounding buildings in various states of repair. Sirius told them it was not necessary to know where exactly it was, and to respect his privacy (not that he would ever live there).

Hobby was there the following evening, when Sirius and Remus were narrating all this to the Flamels. He had a question: "Lord Black sir, my master wanted to know if those portkeys could be personalised, so that no one else can use them".

Remus gave him a very confused look. Hobby instantly knew he had made another mistake, but he waited for Remus to ask.

"We've only just told you about the portkeys; how on earth did your master already hear about them _and_ give you a question to ask us?"

"Well, Mr Lupin sir, the Phantom has a thousand eyes and a thousand ears, they say", he smirked. ( _Phew, that was a good save_ , thought Hobby. In truth, this was the first he had heard of it, so Remus's question was valid!)

* * *

 **1987-01-12 11:00 UTC, the Leaky Cauldron**

It had been a few days since the last full moon. By this time, Black's hidden werewolf hideaway had been used four times; more than than ninety percent of the British weres were treated to a brand new method to make their monthly pain completely disappear. People had begun to notice.

Tom looked at the news item in the Prophet with a bemused smile.

 ** _Lycanthropy cured?_**

 _Rumours abound about a possible cure for lycanthropy, following a distinct lack of activity from the majority of the werewolf population over the past few months. Ministry and DMLE officials who discreetly keep an eye on the locations commonly used by weres to spend the full moon night, were at first shocked, back in October last year, when all but a handful stayed away. There were fears that this large mass of weres had gone rogue and were out causing trouble. Reserve aurors and able citizens were urgently, but quietly, called in, the larger population centers - both muggle and magical - were checked, but there was no activity to be found. Nor did subsequent monitoring reveal anything untoward happening._

 _Bradley Hollen, spokesperson for the DMLE, had this to say. "We spent that night in a desperate search for their location - more than three dozen, almost ninety percent of the weres in the UK, were missing. When we didn't find them, and dawn had come up, we spent the morning looking in more places, for the aftermath of what could have been a most horrific and gristly attack on an unsuspecting populace. We scanned the muggle news too, but there was no sign of any attack, anywhere. We did not know what to do, so we didn't do anything. By now, however, it's been three more full moons, and the weres who were missing that night are seen in various places in the wizarding world. Not only have there been no reports of any problems, these weres look healthy and hale - no signs of scratches or bite marks, none of the signs that the person is even a were."_

 _When asked if this was to be considered definitive proof of a cure, however, Mr Hollen demurred. "We can't be sure. Until someone comes forward and shows us this miracle cure - a cure which has eluded our best potion masters for centuries, by the way - we will be unable to say that. When we questioned these weres about their whereabouts during the last four full moons, they said they could not tell us. Notice the word they used: 'could not', not 'would not'. That means something secret is going on, and we can only hope it is not something sinister", said Mr Holler._

 _We at the Prophet have another explanation. We have learned, from sources that we cannot reveal, that a cure has not been found, but a muggle medicine has been found that inhibits all activity in the person who takes it, including the effect of the full moon. We have also been told, on good authority, that the weres that Mr Hollen is concerned with are safe at a protected location, because while under this muggle medicine, they are themselves completely defenseless. The fact that they have found someone whom they can trust so much as to make themselves vulnerable, in the interest of not being a danger to_ _ **us**_ _and_ _ **our world**_ _, is a credit to these forty or so weres. This correspondent feels that we should take heed of this gesture from the weres, and finally recognise that most of them are_ _ **not**_ _dangerous animals, but human beings trying to live with an affliction that was forced upon them._

 _This also explains why about a half-dozen of the most violent known weres, led by the infamous Fenrir Greyback, are_ _ **not**_ _part of this plan. The sooner those few are caught and brought to justice, the faster will the scourge of lycanthropy be erased from our country._

* * *

Reactions were mixed, of course. The silent majority were silently hopeful. A few hard-boiled purebloods probably wanted to say something against the weres being heaped with praise, but they didn't seem to find an avenue through which to vent. Many of the light-side people, especially those who knew Remus, were very happy, and hoped he was in that group.

There were only two groups that did not like it. One was powerful, irrational, and generally unsympathetic to the common man-on-the-street, and the other was Greyback's gang of bloodthirsty weres.

Greyback had a predictable reaction. He ordered his band of six faithful followers to kidnap one of the weres in this program, and find out what was going on. They had to put a stop to this. Without the artificial "us-versus-them" attitude on _both_ sides, he would lose control over all but a handful of the weres, and then why would the wizards fear him at all?

The pure-blooded directors of St Mungo's, curiously, had a similar problem - loss of control. And they did not like it one bit. The profits from the wolfsbane were not much - after all, so few could afford them! That was not the issue.

What _was_ the issue was that, in the opinion of these upstanding citizens, the weres would now stop thinking of themselves as second-class (or even lesser) citizens. They'd expect to be treated on par with normal people, especially because - after a few months - all but a few of the oldest of them would have lost the scarring. You would not be able to recognise a were anymore just by looking at him, his skin, and his clothes. **What was the world coming to?**

* * *

The weres who had signed on to this new way of dealing with the monthly change were very happy. The first month, everyone was sceptical that it would work, the second month they were worried and apprehensive about putting their trust in someone that they did not really know, but Lord Black's track record spoke for him. Not many people could claim to be school friends with a were, and fewer still could say "I taught myself to become an animagus in order to help my werewolf friend".

So when Skeeter's article came out, Greyback, already under some pressure from his small band of six loyalists, was livid. This Skeeter woman was openly thumbing her nose at him. He decided to pay a visit to the Prophet offices.

Remus, however, was wrong in his estimate that Greyback's band of six or seven were all mini-Greybacks.

Lee Giltner had been a friend of Ray Ashfield for some years now, though they had gradually drifted apart. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself running with Greyback and his gang, and that just widened the rift because Ray would not do that.

Now, after four months of seeing Ray be completely unaffected by the change, and looking healthy and - dare he say? - _normal_ , he decided to act. What he wanted to do was risky, but he needed to grab this opportunity while he could.

* * *

A few days later, Remus got an owl from Tom at the Leaky. One of his young were friends wanted to meet him. Sirius decided to tag along, and Hobby also said he would like to accompany them.

"What are the chances we'll be able to get a fix on Greyback's location?", asked Sirius.

"Low to none. The best I can hope for is they have narrowed down the location somewhat. He's pretty cagey; I doubt if anyone except the six who run with him know."

They reached the Leaky after a few minutes, and found Ray waiting for them. With him was another were - clearly one who had _not_ taken them up on their offer four months ago, from the look of him.

"Good morning Lord Black; Hello Remus", said Ray.

"Ray, I think if you're calling him Remus you should call me Sirius", smiled Sirius.

Ray smiled his thanks and nodded. "This is Lee Giltner, an old friend of mine from some years ago. We kinda lost touch when I had moved to another town, and he, well, he was sort of alone, and ended up with Greyback's gang. He has something to say".

Lee shuffled his feet a bit and looked down for a moment. He didn't seem to know how to start, so Remus decided to help him along.

"Hi Lee, I'm Remus Lupin; nice to meet you", and he held out his hand. Lee looked up, and mumbled a "nice to meet you too Mr Lupin", and shook his hand. Sirius held out his hand and introduced himself, and Lee in return mumbled something again.

When it didn't look like he would say anything, Ray nudged him, and said to the other two, "he overheard something".

"Look, Lee, if you're worried what will happen to you if you tell us, I assure you we are quite capable of protecting you", said Sirius.

"And anyone else who you care for who may be in trouble", added Remus. Sirius was apt to forget things like that.

"I don't have anyone else to worry about; just me", said Lee. Then he took a deep breath, and said, "He is planning to attack Skeeter tonight, he and all his cohorts. Including me, of course, since he does not yet know I am here".

"What time?", said Remus.

"11 pm. He's been keeping watch on Skeeter's movements, and knows she comes home at that time and after that she is alone. He doesn't want anyone else to interfere".

"Hmm", said Remus thoughtfully. "Look, I hate to do this, but you will need to go back to him. If you do a runner on him, he may figure out you've told someone and change the plan. Would you be willing to do that?"

"Sure. I don't think he suspects. Early on, when I first met him" - and here he looked somewhat sheepishly at Ray - "I gave him the impression that my old friends had abandoned me in some manner. As far as he knows, I am still on the outs with everyone except his group".

"OK, you go back then. We will take care of the 11pm issue; just stay behind the others - there may be some spells thrown about; I don't want you to get hit. Can you wear something distinctive so anyone else I bring along can be told to avoid hitting you?"

"I guess so. I have a pale blue windcheater. I keep getting teased about it - apparently it's a baby color - so I am sure no one else will have one. But please tell your friends at the last minute, not before!"

"Good thought. Although I doubt if Greyback has spies in my circles, it's wise to be careful."

* * *

Back in Crawley, Remus and Sirius got into a fight about Sirius taking part in the ambush.

"There are **seven** of them-"

" **Six** ", interrupted Remus. "Remember Lee is on our side."

"OK six, but Lee will at best stay neutral until the tide completely turns. He won't be joining the fray on our side from the word go. Meanwhile, you will be two against six".

"I am sure we will manage fine. Besides, if something unexpected happens, who will take care of Harry? You have no right to do something that would risk him getting back into Dumbledore's clutches. That has to be much more important than catching one were".

Hobby decided to step in. "Then why are you doing this at all? My master wants him - let him go! Why are you going?"

"Well, we do owe your master a lot", said Remus.

"And yet you refuse to let me go and help him", growled Sirius.

"You told me what Nick and Penny told you the day you first met. His main interest is Harry's well-being. And Harry's well-being most definitely includes _yours_ , you moron!"

"And my well-being includes yours! I refuse to be the last marauder alive!"

Hobby had had enough. He said, "Lord Black sir, my master is calling me; I need to go take care of something while he comes here and talks to you", he said, and popped off.

A scant few seconds later they felt someone else was in the room. There was no popping sound as of wizarding apparation, nor any sign that a portkey was used. Yet they knew someone was there.

"Hello, gentlemen", said a deep voice. "I hear you guys are in two minds about who should go, so I decided to settle the matter".

The two stared at him blankly. They could only see a vague outline of a face, no details were to be seen.

Remus's nose twitched slightly, and Hobby was glad he had masked his scent as much as possible. _Dammit, I need to be more careful_ , he thought, while quickly and silently redoing the masking spell.

"I will be going alone. I do not want anyone to be there. I have certain, umm, powers - for lack of a better word - that will enable me to stay quite safe. Regardless of how many werewolves land up."

Hobby was being somewhat specious. He was basically going to use a silver arrow spell, which most aurors knew, except that he would be completely invisible and able to pop silently. He could, basically, appear to be more than one attacker. It was amazing how much a house-elf could do, really, and most of it was very simple stuff that nevertheless had a huge force multiplier effect.

"We can't, in all good conscience, allow you to take that risk all by yourself and not try to help you at all!", said Sirius. "As Remus just reminded me, we owe you a lot".

"And as that same friend reminded you, my interest is Harry's well-being, so consider your debt to me paid if you always make sure Harry's interests are uppermost in your mind. Not my interests, not someone else's, but Harry's. Regardless of what happens or who else is at risk."

That shut Sirius up. Put that way, there was nothing he could really say.

But Remus-

"And before you get any ideas, Mr Lupin, Harry needs you almost as much", said the Phantom. Although they could not see that he was grinning, they heard the good-natured humour in his voice and both men smiled without thinking.

"I want you guys to promise you will stay away from this".

"I think at least I-", began Remus.

"Look, I appreciate your concern. I'll do you a deal: if I get into any trouble I'll call Hobby and he'll come and tell you so you can come and save me. Best of both worlds. Covers my confidence that I won't need help, as well as your worry that I might", he said.

"OK that sounds better. And we've already prepared a portkey to Skeeter's place. Weres don't mess about with anti-portkey wards and such anyway, so that should be fine."

"Good; I'll come back with some news around 11:15 or so, I expect. Until then...", and he was no longer there.

* * *

Hobby ensconced himself in a conjured chair in one corner of the hallway outside Skeeter's apartment, after making sure that the chair was as undetectable as he was. He got there well in time - around 10:40pm - just in case something happened to change the schedule.

By 11:20, he was wondering if Greyback had managed to grab Skeeter somewhere else, because there was no sign of either. He had no way of tracking them either - after all, if he could, why would he need to go to all this trouble to finish off Greyback?

Just as he was preparing to leave, he heard someone fall and stumble, then a muttered curse. Skeeter was here, apparently a little tipsy. She appeared to have used a portkey - she did not look stable enough for apparation.

A few seconds later, she had opened her door, entered, and locked it behind her. Hobby had determined that she had several wards around her apartment, so the would-be killers could only come through the main hall. He was sure - if they were still going to plan - they would be equally impatient and would be here very soon.

And - literally in the next five seconds - they were. Four werewolves silently popped in, and a few more seconds later three came up the stairs. The last one was wearing a pale blue windcheater. _Hmm; I wonder... can they not apparate?_ , thought Hobby.

Greyback turned to face his comrades.

"We are here to make an example of this woman. I do not want her alive, that goes without saying, but I want her death to be as gory and painful as possible. Once we enter, I will knock her out, and then we shall take her away. When we are back in our den, we will slowly dismember her - with our bare hands, while I keep her conscious and sane."

"You" - he pointed to Lee - "will then produce a pensieve memory of the entire event, which we will send to the Prophet's editor, with a note saying if he does not print the contents accurately, he will be next."

With that, he turned around. And found himself face to face with... well someone who didn't appear to have a face, actually.

The wizard was two yards from him, and before Greyback could react, he had pulled out a wand and muttered something. Greyback's last thoughts were of trying to decipher what the man was saying, but his body knew what it was long before his mind would have figured it out - a silver arrow, right between the eyes and all the way through to about the middle of his head.

Behind Greyback, Hobby saw Lee quietly leave. Mission accomplished, as far as he was concerned. Hobby let him leave, then he got behind the stunned group of weres, and hit the two standing at the rear (who had walked up with Lee) with powerful elf spells to hold them.

When their bodies hit the ground, the thump sound made the other three - who were till then staring at their suddenly dead leader - turn around, Hobby got behind them again and stunned all of them.

He picked up these five, and - one by one - took them away. Each of them was obliviated to the age of ten or so, a permanent elf tracking charm placed on them in case they escaped, and turned loose in an enclosed part of the estate that Sirius had allowed the weres to use during the full moon. He would have to figure out how to test their future intentions and deal with them accordingly.

* * *

Back in Crawley, both Sirius and Remus had dozed off. When Hobby, as the Phantom, appeared there to report on what had happened and to stop them worrying about him, he found that neither of them was awake!

 _So much for worrying about me_ , he laughed to himself, nudging Remus awake gently.

"Wha- oh hey, you're OK! Thank God! We were getting worried", said Remus.

"I can see that", said Hobby with a smile, although again they could not, of course see his face clearly.

Remus suddenly stiffened. "Err, how many did you kill?"

"Hmm? Only Greyback; the others have been captured and placed in one of the fenced-in parts of the estate which you guys use during the full moon. I will leave it to you to figure out what to do with them. Why did you think I would kill all of them? Do I appear that bloodthirsty?"

"No no, but in the heat of battle..."

"What battle? I told you how it would play out", said Hobby, and briefly described what had happened. "And anyway, don't worry, your friend in the blue windcheater escaped the second I had hit Greyback".

"Phew; that's good to know. Thanks", said Remus.

It would be some hours before he would realise that he had not actually told the 'Phantom' about how to identify Lee. Hobby must have told him, of course, but when did he have the time? Sure he may have contacted his master after the Phantom had left but it didn't _sound_ like it.


	23. Chapter 23: Kidnapped!

Chapter 23: Kidnapped!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** (And apologies for missing my informal weekend update time by a day or so!)

 **1988-06-22 14:30 UTC, Kithurst Close, Crawley**

The dark wizard had been waiting in the bushes since 10am. He had been watching them for the last few days, trying to find a chance to grab the bastard-who-lived. But, invariably, the blood traitor Black or - less often - his werewolf friend, were with him.

Today, however, he had seen both of them leave the house shortly after he had started his vigil, so this was his chance.

Yet, now, four hours later, there had been no sign of the boy. Cursing his luck, he prepared to leave quietly, and try again the next day.

It had been well over a year since anything significant had happened in the wizarding world. The fortunes of his people had taken a very distinct down-turn, and it had all started when Black had escaped Azkaban and taken charge of the Potter brat. Of course, it was just as true that the real problems had started with the Potter boy himself, back on Halloween 1981. Regardless of what was the bigger factor, kidnapping and getting rid of the boy-who-lived would satisfy his lust for revenge on both counts. Black could be handled later, after Potter was dead. And who knows - in his grief, he may do himself harm!

He had waited a long, long, time for their notional leader to do something, but having had his lower arm removed - as a consequence of his own stupidity, no less - appeared to have turned him into a wimp. Not to mention the threats from this 'Phantom'.

Finally, he had given up on Malfoy doing anything, and decided to take matters into his own hands. An overheard conversation between two weres in the Leaky had given him the current idea. Apparently, Black had taken up residence in some muggle locality, and of course the Potter brat was with him. Why on earth they would do something so foolish he had no clue, but Black had always been a blood-traitor, and this was just the next step from that. He would pay. Indirectly, today, and later, perhaps, more directly.

It had taken him a lot of trouble to find the location. He couldn't land a tracking charm on them - it seemed to just fizzle out. At one point the were had turned and looked in his direction, though he was sure he was not seen.

But one day the brat-who-lived himself had been brought in to the Leaky. A crowd had formed, and people were all over the three - two men and a boy - pawing them, trying to shake hands, pat the boy.

And this time the tracking charm stayed on. Better still, he managed to hit the boy-who-lived himself.

The only question now was the neighbours daughter - a _muggle_ (he sneered to himself) - who almost always accompanied him. Well, if he had to kill her, he would, but if it were possible to simply obliviate her that would be OK too. After all, Harry Potter's death was a day to celebrate, and he would not grudge even muggles some celebration - being allowed to live would be her reward for being a part of this momentous occasion.

* * *

A bit cheered by his grandiose schemes and dreams, he decided to wait an hour more. If nothing happened even then, he would leave.

His luck held; in about twenty minutes, the Potter brat and a very energetic, bushy-haired, girl appeared in the pool area. They were holding hands and _literally_ skipping along. He sneered, though no one could see him.

Spying a slightly dirty towel lying in their path, about half-way between the entrance and the pool proper, Harry bent to pick it up, intending to take it to the laundry.

* * *

Having never used a portkey, Harry did not immediately recognise what had happened. He was shocked to find himself in a dark, smelly, dungeon all of a sudden, and his shock doubled when he found Hermione on top of him.

"Harry", Hermione began in a scared voice. "What happened? Where are we?" The poor girl was brave, but, while bravery in the face of known dangers - like schoolyard bullies - was one thing, it was quite another to be brave when, in the space of a few seconds, you find yourself whisked away from your neighbour's swimming pool to something that looked like it belonged in a medieval prison.

"I have no idea, Hermione!", said Harry, in just as shocked and worried a tone. He had just started to realise that they may be in serious trouble. Months ago, his guardians had given him an abridged version of the events around his parents' death, the death-eaters, etc., but nothing too graphic or detailed. He had been told to be suspicious of strangers - more than normal for kids his age - and to report to his Uncles Padfoot and Mooney if he noticed something odd.

(Unknown to him, there had been a huge debate about whether or not to ward the Kithurst Close property. Remus - more used to the muggle word as well as to the wizards' blindness to it - advocated leaving things alone, arguing that the presence of powerful wards in a muggle locality would attract attention, and their location would become known. Sirius was in favour of setting up wards closer in spirit to the ones on number 12. Remus won, but he would not be feeling victorious soon, sadly.)

A few seconds later someone unlocked a door that the two kids had hitherto not noticed. The man was dark-haired, and may have looked handsome if his attitude were more pleasing. He pulled up a chair, and sat down, close enough to the two kids that he could hit either, should the need arise and he chose to.

"So, the great Harry Potter, boy-who-lived, who defeated the greatest dark Lord our world has ever known... here you are, at my mercy, caught by a simple portkey from a completely unwarded home. How arrogant - and foolish - of your godfather!"

"Who are you?", asked Harry.

"That does not matter. Let's just say, when you defeated our master, a lot of us swore we would kill you one day. Looks like that day has come, but before you die, I plan to have some fun".

"You won't get away with this, whatever it is", said Hermione. "My parents will be looking for me. They know where I go, and even if you knocked us out and carried us somewhere, there are bound to be people who would have noticed. I mean, all the exits from Harry's swimming pool go through-"

The wizard hit her with a silencing spell, and Harry heard no more. She continued to say something, without realising they could not hear her. The man looked at her with a strange look - part loathing, part gloating. He levitated her from one corner of the room to the other, and her mouth stopped moving, hanging open in shock instead.

"I suggest you sit quietly and not say a word, you stupid **muggle**. I don't have any particular reason to kill you, but I may change my mind if you bother me".

He then turned his attention again to Harry.

"Well, Potter, shall we see how long it takes your godfather and his pet werewolf to realise you're gone?"

"Look, whatever you want to do, it's with me. Let her go. I know you guys can do some spell to make her forget; just make her forget today happened and send her away", said Harry.

Hermione started waving her hands in an attempt to be noticed. When neither of them noticed, she stood from her place, and half-ran, half-stumbled, to where Harry was. It was clear that she wanted to dissuade him from that course, and she considered that she was in this with him.

The wizard did not give her a chance. He backhanded her viciously, hard enough to cut the inside of her cheek on her own teeth, and send her sprawling half-way across the room. Harry was not sure if she hit her head on something, or the blow was just that strong, but she fell unconscious, a small trickle of blood dribbling out of her half-open mouth.

" **NO** " roared Harry, and rushed the wizard, hands stretched in front of him. He had been told there would be episodes of "accidental" magic, when he was under any emotional stress, and he was hoping this would happen.

The man looked at him contemptuously. He then muttered a banishing spell that pushed Harry back to the wall behind him, winded. It was then that Harry noticed the bracelets on both his wrists.

"Magic suppressors, Mr Potter", gloated the man, with a cold smirk on his face. "You will not be able to do anything at all. You see, I wasn't sure if your godfather had taught you any tricks, and even if he hadn't, we all know there was a distinct possibility it was your accidental magic that killed our master. You think I'd take such a chance?"

Harry slumped to the ground, defeated. He hadn't quite given up hope, but it certainly appeared hopeless.

"Where exactly are we, and what is your name?", he asked.

"It does not matter, Potter. You will not leave this place alive. And now that your muggle friend was foolish enough to not listen to what I told her the first time, she will not either."

"Look, she really has no clue about magic, so that was expected. Please don't harm her - she really is completely innocent in all this. I don't know what you want from me, but I'll do whatever you want if you let her go unharmed except removing her memories of today".

"Very noble of you. I'm sure Gryffindor will have lost a fine member by the end of today. Now shut up, I have other things to do". With that, he silenced Harry also, and left the room.

* * *

Sirius was frantic. While Remus had won the argument about warding, they still monitored Harry continually, even if he did not know it, by some means or other. Kreacher would silently be watching, or Hobby, the weird elf that hung around at the Flamels.

Kreacher had come rushing in a few minutes ago saying someone had kidnapped Harry and his friend Hermione using a portkey.

" **What?** How in blazes did a portkey get inside our home? I thought we had protection from malicious visitors at least!", shouted Sirius.

"They spelled a towel to be a portkey and then threw it in, over the pool wall. Master Harry saw what looked like a fallen towel and picked it up."

"Kreacher, can you call that strange elf belonging to the 'Phantom'?"

"Yes master", and Kreacher did whatever elves did. In a couple of seconds, Hobby was there. He took one look at Sirius's face and knew something was wrong.

"Harry has been kidnapped by someone, we don't know who, or why. His friend Hermione was with him, and she is gone too", said Sirius.

Hobby went weak in the knees and fell to the ground. All his planning, his second chance at life, all the precautions to make sure the really bad ones were taken care of, and someone who was not on his list - or maybe was, but was not high enough - captures him.

He had warded the Granger's house long ago, when he did Emily's, but that was only for offensive magic within the boundary. But for Sirius's house, he had not. Firstly, Sirius or Mooney were always there, and would have felt the wards settle, and would have been suspicious. Then, Mooney had argued against it anyway and he didn't want to get into an argument.

He had a monitoring spell on Hermione, but it had either worn off, or something else had happened to prevent him from getting a warning. And even if it were working, there was no locator. He'd have to up his game, and use permanent tracking charms now.

He shook himself to get rid of the deep worry he was in; he needed to think this through, and he needed a clear head for that. For the first time he truly regretted not telling at least Harry about his ability to go anywhere, as well as to bring back anything or anyone. Harry would have called him by now if he had done that. _What was I trying to protect by not telling even Harry?_ , he cursed himself.

He went to the pool area to see if he could trace the portkey, or who made it, after telling Kreacher to ask Nick and Penny to come here.

He didn't have much luck, but in a few minutes, Nick and Penny were there. Sirius looked at them like the saviours they could be; after all, if they could not fix the problem, then who could? Wait, there was someone else who could, too! "Hobby, please ask your master to come here!"

Hobby popped off, and a few seconds later the 'Phantom' arrived. Sirius still could not see his face, but he didn't care. "Where's your elf?"

"Taking care of something back home. Let's just say there is something at my home that requires either him or me to be tending it every second, or at least be right next to it even if we fall asleep. Now, forget that, what happened here? Nick, Penny, any traces?"

"We've found the magical signature, but we don't know whose it is. Kreacher, could you call Madam Bones and ask her to bring her best aurors? Actually, wait, I'll write a note".

He quickly dashed off a note with the salient details and asked her to come quickly. Meanwhile, Hobby, as the Phantom, was getting more and more worried. No one had really seen the Phantom, but what little people knew of him was as a very controlled, focused, person. Seeing him worried was... disconcerting, to say the least.

By this time Remus had also arrived, but a sense of smell doesn't do much for portkeys unless you know a probable destination; then you could go there and confirm or reject the idea that the portkey went there.

Madam Bones came in, along with Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt tried his best, but the signature had faded too much for him to be able to figure it out.

Meanwhile, Hobby was feeling very guilty. _And he has taken Hermione also. My fault. My fault entirely. I swore I would not give them even a first chance, but I allowed my fear of being investigated deeply - and competently - to override that decision, and this is the end result. I am still going to have to be careful, but I can't leave them alone. All I have to do is be more circumspect, create very plausible situations_ , cursed Hobby again.

"We have to make an exhaustive list of all death-eaters and start interrogating them one by one; there is no help for it", said Bones.

"Amelia, please split up that list and send teams around. But Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson are ours. They're the only three who _may_ have heard of our muggle hideaway, from the kids of other mutual friends who may have let something slip unintentionally", said Sirius.

* * *

Sirius walked into Malfoy Manor as if he owned it. ( _Maybe I do; I need to check_ , he made a note to himself). The 'Phantom' was with him, and they made an imposing pair - tall men, walking with a purposeful stride, and most importantly, a thunderous expression on their faces.

They walked right up to the Malfoys. The Phantom grabbed Lucius by the throat, and physically lifted him off the chair and onto the table itself. He sat him down - right on top of a plate of omelettes.

Narcissa, meanwhile, was being held at wandpoint by Sirius. He quietly told her, "I am ordering you, as Lord Black, to shut up and stay put. At the moment we are only looking for answers. And by the way, your turn will come."

The Phantom had pried open Lucy's jaws by the simple expedient of hitting him on the side of his head, and when he had cried out, he had thrown close to a vial of veritaserum down Lucy's throat.

"Yes, I know the medically safe limit is 3 drops, and I gave you a teaspoon full; almost 30 times the safe limit. Thing is, I don't know what your potions regimen is, what kind of immunity you have been working on. And honestly, I don't care too much if you live or die.

Now, what do you know about Harry Potter's kidnapping?", he growled.

"Nothing", came the dull reply in the expected dull monotone.

"Who would know?"

"I do not know".

"Have you heard any rumours?"

"No".

"Have you heard anything that might indicate a plot to kidnap anyone?"

"No".

 _We are at an impasse_ , thought Hobby.

Sirius held up the vial to Narcissa. The implied choice was clear: take it voluntarily or be forced to.

Unfortunately, that too did not get them anywhere; she knew nothing either. Then Sirius had an idea.

"If you were to name three people who may have managed to kidnap Harry, who would they be?"

"Nott, Parkinson, Rowle", said Lucius. Simultaneously, Narcissa said "Nott, Rowle, and Yaxley".

Unfrortunately, when they got to the Notts and the Parkinsons, they got similar answers, except with Malfoy's name instead of their own, and it was clear that these three families had not even known about this.

They'd have to cast a wider net.

* * *

Hermione woke up groggily, to find that she was lying next to Harry, partly cradled in his left arm. Harry himself seemed to be in some pain, but she was not really sure what had hit him; she hadn't seen.

"Harry, are you alright?", she asked.

Harry hugged her gingerly, not sure where she was hurt. The silencing spell had worn off long ago, and he had been trying to get Hermione to wake up.

"Hermione, oh thank God you're awake! I was so worried, because you took a much worse hit than I did. How are you feeling? You hit your head against something, right? Does it hurt?"

"I think I'm OK Harry. I don't know what I hit but it wasn't too hard - just hard enough to knock me out for a bit I suppose. Did he hit you too?"

"No. I tried to attack him and he pushed me back to the other wall. After that he left".

They were silent for a few minutes, neither sure what to say or ask. Finally Hermione could not keep quiet.

"Harry, this does not seem to be just a 'for ransom' kidnapping. What's going on? Who's this 'master' you defeated?"

Harry was silent for a bit. He had been told that the statute of secrecy was paramount, and only a life-and-death situation would be an acceptable excuse. But, while this was indeed a life-and-death situation, telling Hermione about magic would not affect things one way or another, so he wasn't sure if he was allowed to.

"Hermione, I promise, when we get home, I'll have Sirius explain it all. I don't even know where to begin", he tried to evade.

"Harry, you know me better than that. If you don't know where to begin, I'll ask you specific questions, and I know you won't lie to me. So, to start with, who's this 'master' and how did you defeat him?"

Harry was in a bind. If he lived through this kidnap, he was sure he would be hauled up before some wizard court, for the grave and unpardonable sin of revealing the existence of magic to a muggle.

At the same time, he could not lie to Hermione. She'd become a great friend over the last couple of years or so, and really, they were each others' best friend, with anyone else in school being a very distant second, if that.

"Hermione, the other reason I don't want to tell you is that you won't believe me, and you will _think_ I am lying anyway. I don't want you to think that of me, Hermione, I'd hate to lose you as a friend because you thought I lied to you."

She knew Harry would not lie to her, but how to convince him that she _would_ believe him?

"Harry, I already know you will not lie. But if you're not sure, then just look at me. Look at me and tell me, and I will know you are not lying."

Harry could see no more escape clauses! He decided to throw caution to the winds.

"Hermione, I am a wizard. So are Sirius and Remus, as well as this man who kidnapped us. Which of course tells you there are good wizards and bad wizards, just like non-wizard people".

"Is that what 'muggle' means, because that's what he called me?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you caught that actually; I would have been too shocked at being levitated across the room". And suddenly Harry realised that he was not guilty of anything. The wizard had already broken the statute. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

"So... levitating me is a magic thing?"

"Yes".

"What else can you do?"

"Me? I can't do anything. I haven't been trained - we go to wizard school when we are eleven". He stopped talking, struck with a realisation that, somehow, had not manifested itself till now. His expression changed to one of extreme unhappiness; he looked downright depressed.

"Oh Harry, don't worry, someone will find us", said Hermione.

"It's... it's not that, Hermione. Well that too, but...", he tailed off.

Then he resumed what he was saying earlier. "Anyway, until then, magical children can't do magic, although sometimes accidents happen".

"Accidents?"

"Yeah, like you really really wish for something and it just happens".

"Oh! Has that happened to you?"

"A couple of times. Once I wanted a drink which Sirius was keeping away from me, and I was really upset and cranky, and suddenly the glass was in front of me. Things like that".

Hermione fell silent. _Oh no, I hope she does not think I am lying!_ , worried Harry.

Hermione, of course, was realising that she had had one or two such incidents too, but how could she be a-

"Harry, what's the female equivalent of wizard?"

"Witch. And it does not mean anything bad like it does in normal English".

Hermione nodded and fell silent again, this time for a longer duration.

* * *

When Sirius and Remus got back from interrogating their three main suspects, a post-office owl was waiting for Sirius. When it saw him, it went up to him and stretched its leg out. As soon as he untied the letter, it flew away. Clearly no reply was expected.

The note was simple, and struck terror - and not a small amount of anger - into everyone's hearts.

 _Black,_

 _I don't want any ransom. If the 'Phantom' identifies himself and gives himself up in the Wizengamot, I_ _ **may**_ _decide to free Potter. If the Phantom chooses to hide, Potter will die a very, very, painful death. Don't worry, I will send you a pensieve memory of his torture and death, in the hope that you and your useless werewolf will kill yourselves in despair._

 _Call for an emergency meeting tomorrow, and I expect to see the Phantom unveiled. Oh and there need to be veritaserum statements to prove that he is indeed the Phantom; no palming off someone else!_

Hobby nearly went into shock on reading this. How had his plans backfired to badly? How could one miscalculation - the amount of protection that Harry needed while in the muggle world - have caused such a reversal of fortunes?

He could easily escape even after the court session, if it came to that - no one would think of asking him "are you a house-elf?" - but the question was, how to get Harry and Hermione out?

There seemed to be no easy answers. It certainly looked as if the whole thing was going to hell in a handbasket, and things could become much, much, worse than they had been in his past life if the wrong people came to power.

There was only one thing to do. Well two, actually.

"Sirius, call for a Wizengamot meeting, and announce it in the press right away. Make sure you include the reason - Harry has been kidnapped and that is what the kidnapper wants. I want it to make the evening edition. I'm going to give myself up if it has to be that way. Meanwhile, I have things to do".

* * *

Harry was consumed by guilt - Hermione was in trouble because of her association with him. Hermione's silence was also weighing on him - for a girl who had more questions than the rest of the class put together, the fact that she stopped asking questions after the first one, was ominous.

He gathered up his courage, and said, "Hermione, I am sorry for getting you mixed up in this. I am really really sorry, and I think after we get out, you should not be friends with me anymore. My life is always going to be like this, because of something that happened when I was just past a year old. I'll completely understand if-"

" **Harry James Potter**!", Hermione's voice was pitched low, but for all that, it was as if she were shouting, so intense was her tone.

"Until I met you, I had no friends. None. Not even one. I wasn't always picked on, so much as... ignored. You are my first, best, and only friend all rolled into one, and I am not going to let you go for whatever stupid reason you come up with". If it weren't for the fact that she was sitting on the floor next to him, he could imagine her hands on her hips.

"Hermione, I didn't mean it like that, but I'll admit I was worried. Now that you put it like that, I promise I won't try and push you away. To be honest, I probably couldn't - you're my first, best, and only friend too you know!"

And the two kids just sat there, holding each other, not able to truly comfort each other in terms of the danger they were in, but trying anyway, without words.

A child who grows up with only adults for company, is often a lot more mature than other kids their age. And that does not change when there are two such kids who are friends - neither of them has an influence that's truly childlike, and in fact, their relative maturity is dominant, and reinforces the same quality in the other child.

For all of Hobby's efforts to let Harry have a childhood, and get him to meet his future love early on, Harry wouldn't have a truly child-like childhood.

But neither Hobby, nor Harry, nor anyone else, would realise this. Ever.

* * *

 _The war has started a heck of a lot sooner than I realised it would, except that no one has else realised it_ , thought Hobby. He made a list of death-eaters who were still alive and at large; from Avery to Yaxley, there were about fifteen of them, although some had families, and some even had extended families.

He popped to the ministry and got residence records for every single one of them. It was now past 8pm, so he had about 12 hours before the Wizengamot session.

He went to Grimmauld, knowing that Sirius no longer went there much, if at all. He told Kreacher to ready the dungeons, and not to tell **anyone** , even Master Sirius. He told Kreacher to fill the dungeon with thirty or so rat cages.

His game plan was simple. There was a slight chance that Harry and Hermione would die today. He would do his best to prevent that, including - if necessary - sacrificing himself, or committing crimes that would not let him sleep ever again. But at the moment the deck appeared to be too stacked.

The death-eater who had kidnapped Harry could be absolutely anyone. He may not even have the mark, or be one of those he knew from his previous life. But he had to try.

So he basically repeated what he had done in early 1986. He went to every single death-eater's house, stunned the elves, and kidnapped the entire family. Except this time he turned them into rats and chucked them into the cages. He made sure to have Kreacher mark each cage with who was in it - he would be releasing the kids and probably some of the mothers soon enough, and he didn't want to figure out which of the rats were kids.

The kidnapper had not left any way for him to be tracked. _Guilty until proven innocent, or until Harry is found_ , muttered Hobby to himself. _I will_ _ **not**_ _allow myself to labour under the single biggest handicap that the good guys always seem to_.

* * *

The wizard who had kidnapped Harry and Hermione saw the announcement in the paper, and gloated. He walked back into the dungeon and showed Harry the newspaper.

"Do you know who this Phantom is, boy?"

Harry looked at him without expression. "No. But then again, even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. I don't think you understand what you're playing with here - Sirius and Remus will come after you, and they'll make you pay a hundred times for everything you're doing to me", he said defiantly.

"Oh really? And how do you think they're going to know it's me? I may not let you and your little friend live, and even if I do, I'm certainly going to wipe out your memories".

"In fact, let me show you the price you have to pay for your little act of defiance, so that next time I ask you a question, you'll be more inclined to answer me properly".

With a cruel smile, he pushed the girl again to the far wall with a spell, then sent the torture curse at Harry, holding it for a long time.

Each second felt like a year for Harry. The kind of pain that the torture curse can inflict on adults was bad enough, but on a seven year old child, it was well beyond inhuman.

Hermione woke up to the sound of Harry screaming in agony, while the bad wizard held a stick (she wondered if this was a wand) pointed at him. She was several feet away, and was unable to even move her head. She wanted to run to Harry, protect him, somehow get him away from this pain. She could not bear to hear him scream like that.

She lunged for the wizard, but found herself restrained, probably magically, since she could not see any ropes or such.

Her frustration, anger, and most of all, fear for her friend, intensified every time Harry screamed and every time Harry's head tossed violently in pain, every time Harry's limbs thrashed and every time his spine bent in agony.

It seemed - to her, anyway - as if Harry's bones were being broken, and she hated this wizard with all her heart and mind and soul, and she wished he would suffer the same kind of pain, and stop torturing her friend.

She screamed out her pain and anger and her fear in one long wail of agony.

And Dolohov found himself literally _rammed_ , pushed away from Harry, away from Hermione, away from the dungeon cell they were in. He was driven into the concrete wall on the far side, most of his limbs crushed from the sheer speed at which his body ploughed, back first, into the wall. His ribcage shattered, and the back of his head nearly - but not quite - fractured.

And it all happened so suddenly that he did not even have that single millisecond of realisation, that the girl was not a muggle, and he should have slapped magic suppressors on her also.


	24. Chapter 24: A witch is revealed!

Chapter 24: A witch is revealed!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1988-06-22 23:30 UTC, Kithurst Close, Crawley**

"Sirius, Remus", yelled the Phantom as he walked in to Sirius's house. Hermione's parents were there too, but Hobby didn't care; in fact it was better this way.

All four adults ran to him, because he had two kids in his arms; he was holding both of them up, apparently with only a little difficulty, as if it were more inconvenience than strain.

"Where did you find them? Oh my God they're both hurt, we should take them to a hospital", said Mrs Granger.

"No, we'll fix them right here", said the Phantom.

It was only then that they noticed.

"You... your fa-", she spluttered, while her husband stared in shock. "Why is your face so unfocused? What kind of makeup is this?"

"And what exactly are you doing to my daughter, waving that stick around?"

Sirius and Remus did not know what to do. They knew the Phantom had very little respect for the law in its strictest sense, but why was he breaking the statute of secrecy?

"Got any pepper-up?", he asked. "I need two vials".

Sirius left the room and came back a minute later with two vials. "Won't work on muggles, you know", he said.

"Yup, but she's not one. She's a muggle-born", smirked the Phantom.

Then, under his breath, very quietly, he said to himself, "and once again she saved him".

* * *

It took them a long time to convince the good doctors that their precious daughter was a "witch", a word they had hitherto only associated with either an insult or myth. That she, and indeed all the four men (well, three men and a boy) in that house were wizards.

Most unusually, Mrs Granger's first question - after the shock had worn off and acceptance started settling in - was "why do the men get a cool name like 'wizards', and the women get stuck with 'witch'?"

No one had an answer!

* * *

It would eventually take the better part of the next day for the two kids to properly recover. Potions and healing could fix bodily injuries in a trice, but the wizarding world had always been somewhat short on mental health issues like shock, fear, and so on. And even more so when it came to children.

About all the adults could do was give them time, while helping each other come to terms with what happened, and what _nearly_ happened.

Remus was the worst hit, of course, because he was the one who vetoed the idea of wards.

"I'm sorry Sirius, this is all my fault. I should have agreed to let you put up wards".

Sirius knew this was coming, and he had his argument ready.

"How far could the best wards go?"

"The whole street, for sure".

"What about school? Going to ward that too? What about the occasional school trip? Would you ask for plans and ward all those places before the school bus got there?", said Sirius.

"The fact is", he continued, "there was nothing we could have done. We'll just need to protect them better".

"And meanwhile", he continued, "best get some sleep; we have a Wizengamot session tomorrow".

* * *

 **1988-06-23 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot meeting room**

The world outside was not going to stand still though. The connections between the marked death-eaters and the rest of the populace - at least the purebloods - were weak but they were there, and somehow the rumour had gotten started that something had happened to all of them. And then, when several members of the Wizengamot did not turn up for the emergency meeting called by Lord Black, that rumour gained wings.

Sirius, with the permission of the Chief Witch, took the podium. The mood in the room was not hostile - it couldn't be, since there wasn't a single death-eater in the room. There may have been a few sympathisers scattered about but that was it.

"Yesterday afternoon, around 3pm, Antonin Dolohov, one of the death-eaters freed by the now imprisoned Fudge, kidnapped my godson Harry Potter, and a muggle friend of his who happened to be with him at the time".

Remus raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. Now that Sirius had done it, he realised it made sense to downplay Hermione's role in this.

"During the approximately nine-hour ordeal, he subjected my godson to the torture curse. I'm going to give you a moment to let that sink in: **a seven year old child under the cruciatus** ", he said. His voice was pitched low and quiet, but for all that, the effect was much more than if he had bellowed at them.

"The ransom note we got said that the Phantom had to give himself up if we wanted Harry back. Now, I know many of you don't quite realise what this Phantom is up to - by his own declaration, he has acted outside the law during Fudge's regime, for instance. But here's the proof, for me, that he is someone I would willingly trust with my life."

Sirius paused for effect. Of course very few people knew that the Phantom was the one who had pulled him out of Azkaban; no point going there.

"He came to our house last evening, shortly after the ransom note was received, and told us he would reveal himself and give himself up today, as the ransom note demanded, if he was unable to rescue Harry and his friend in the interim".

The members were silent, waiting for more.

"I don't really know how he rescued them. But his attempt to rescue them was simplicity in itself. I have no idea how he did it, but he basically made a list of every single death-eater - regardless of whether they went to Azkaban in 1981, like Dolohov, or stayed free, like Malfoy, and kidnapped them and every member of their family."

There were loud protests from some people, pleased grins from a very few, and shock on the faces of most of the members. The majority, however, seemed to feel that this was way over the line.

Minister Bones decided to interrupt. "I thought he had promised he would stay within the law if I became minister?"

"Madam Bones, he has the highest respect for you, but this was provocation well beyond his tolerance."

"Where is he, Lord Black? He did make a public statement that he would reveal himself today; is he not going to do so?"

"No, Minister. That statement was made under the threat of Harry being killed. Now that that specific threat is gone, he feels no obligation to do what he had offered to do under duress."

 _Ah well, can't win 'em all_ , thought Madam Bones. She nodded and sat down.

"The Phantom has give me a written statement that he has asked me to read out, which I will do now", said Sirius.

He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket unfolded it, and started reading.

 _To the members of the Wizengamot,_

 _All the people I have taken into custody while trying to rescue Harry Potter are safe. With some exceptions, they will be returned to their homes as soon as Harry recovers enough to give us his memory of the incident, and we have examined it to determine if anyone else was involved._

 _If I find that anyone else knew about this, or was involved in some way, I will be dealing with them very harshly. Madam Bones, I know what I said, and by and large I will stick to it. But as Sirius may have mentioned, some things are beyond the pale, and attacks on children cannot be dealt with adequately by our laws._

 _Please note, Madam Bones, that I have full confidence that you are ready, willing, and able, to uphold the law. Just that we have nothing in our laws that sufficiently expresses the level of outrage adequate for cases where someone tortures a child. Yes, we have Azkaban, but using the same punishment for burglaries as for murders, does not help convey the seriousness of this sort of crime._

 _Anyway, until they are freed, they are being kept in decent comfort, I have elves waiting on their daily needs, and I do not intend anyone among them who is innocent of this particular crime to suffer anything except a few hours of time lost_.

Sirius refolded the paper and put it back in his pocket. Disregarding everyone's questions, he got off the podium. However, the Chief Witch had one question for him.

"What happened to Dolohov, Lord Black?"

"I'm afraid I do not quite know what happened, nor where he is now. He is certainly alive, otherwise I am sure the Phantom would have mentioned it to me. I honestly can't say I care. If I ever see him, I will make sure he never forgets what he did to a child."

* * *

 **1988-06-23 08:00 UTC, dungeons beneath 12, Grimmauld Place**

In reality, Hobby did not need Harry's memories immediately. He had enough to do, making sure Dolohov did not die of the injuries from Hermione's accidental magic. He was definitely not going to take him to St Mungo's, so instead he had taken him to Penny and Nick's place last night, after making sure Harry and Hermione were OK. He spent some time helping Penny stabilise him, then - once he had been given the appropriate healing potions for all his injuries, including skelegrow, he went back to Malfoy Manor. Penny promised to call him once he was healed up enough and awake.

The next morning, while the Wizengamot session was going on, Hobby felt Penny calling him, and went to Nick and Penny's place. Dolohov was looking almost healthy - a testament to Penny's magical (truly!) skills in healing.

Hobby took him off to Grimmauld, and put him in a separate room. He got out a bottle of truth serum and forced it down Dolohov's throat.

He cut straight to the chase. "Who else knew you were going to kidnap Harry?"

"No one".

"Why did you do this?"

"We were losing, almost lost. The Phantom had broken our spirit, and I wanted to break his back." He had not realised he was talking to the Phantom.

 _That's pretty generic; almost any death-eater may have the same motivation_ , thought Hobby.

"Do you think any of your fellow death-eaters would get the same idea?"

"Yes".

"Would they be able to carry it out?"

"Some would".

"Who?"

"Malfoy, Nott, Rowle".

"What about Parkinson and Yaxley?"

"Parkinson is a wimp. Yaxley might do it, so him too."

Hobby thought for a minute, then asked, "do you know what your punishment is going to be?"

"No".

"Can you guess?"

"Yes".

"What do you think it will be?"

"You will kill me".

 _Not quite_ , thought Hobby. He turned him into a rat, put him in a cage, marked the cage properly, and left.

* * *

 **1988-06-23 13:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

When Hobby, as Hobby, arrived at Kithurst Close, he found that Harry had been awake for a few minutes. Hermione had been up for a while, and was still in her mother's arms, with her father sitting right next to them. A long arm lay protectively across and behind his wife's shoulders, extending to encompass his daughter's small form as well.

Harry himself did not lack for affection or attention - Sirius had him in a death grip, and seemed reluctant to let him go any time this century. Remus seemed to be debating whether he should do what Mr Granger was doing, and whether it would get misunderstood by his canine friend. Despite the seriousness of what happened before, Hobby almost laughed at the sight.

 _We need to find Sirius a girlfriend, and it has to be someone who will love Harry as much as he does_ , he thought. But that would be hard, and he really was not much of a matchmaker - he wouldn't know where to start! Anyway, time enough for that later.

"Harry", said Hobby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine now, Hobby", said Harry.

"Good... Look I'm sorry to ask this but are either of you feeling up to describing what happened?"

Harry looked at Hermione. She nodded.

"OK, look there's a very easy way for you to tell us exactly what happened", said Hobby. He brought out a pensieve from a bag no one had noticed till now, and handed it to Remus.

"Remus, you know how to do this; help them with it, and make two copies. That's a copy-pensieve, so you can put the memories back when you're done". Saying which, he gave him four vials.

Remus pulled up a chair next to Harry and Sirius, and started explaining what this was, and what he would be doing. He included the three Grangers also when he did this. Once he was done, he asked Harry if he had any questions. Harry had none.

Remus turned to Hermione and said, "Hermione, how about you, any questions?"

Hermione stared at him. "Me? But I'm not a... a... a witch!"

"No honey, you are, apparently", said her mother. "They explained it all to us last night when you were brought home".

"What's more, _you_ saved Harry when he was being tortured, with a massive bout of accidental magic!", said Sirius, with a warm smile at her.

Hermione looked stunned. She turned to Harry and asked, "did you know I was a witch?"

"Nope! Not a clue. First I'm hearing of it!" Then he smiled a great big smile, wriggled out of Sirius's grasp, and went across to Hermione, kneeling on the carpet to be level with her.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

It took her only a second to get where he was going. "We can still be classmates after we're eleven!", she laughed.

He did not realise how odd it looked, how worried the Grangers seemed to be, how gleeful Sirius was, and the thoughtful expression on Remus's face. He looked Hermione in the eyes, and said "I was so worried about this, that I was going to ask Sirius if I could continue in a normal school!"

"I knew that was what you were worrying about yesterday when you first explained about wizard schooling. I just didn't know what to say that would help", she said quietly. Then she grinned broadly, wriggled out of her mother's arms, put her hands around Harry and gave him a big hug.


	25. Chapter 25: Aftermath - jungle law

Chapter 25: Aftermath - the law of the jungle

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** (Also, apologies for missing my update last week!)

 **WARNING: this chapter contains descriptions of muggle torture. I don't think it is too graphic, but that is subjective; YMMV.**

 **1988-06-23 13:30 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Eventually, they managed to get two copies of each child's pensieve memories, and Hobby left. In both of them, they stopped at the torture; they did not reveal Hermione's status. (If asked, they would say she must have gone into shock on seeing the torture and not being able to understand _how_ it was happening, her memory ended there).

He went to Skeeter's offices as the Phantom, and told her what to do: print a running description of everything she thinks looked like readers would like to know. He told her there were some personal conversation between the two kids, but she was _not_ to print that. He also reminded her that even if it looks like Harry violated the statute of secrecy, it was actually Dolohov who did that already.

He then took the other set of vials to Grimmauld.

* * *

 **1988-06-23 15:00 UTC, dungeons beneath 12, Grimmauld Place**

"Kreacher", he called. "Let's get our audience ready for the show, shall we?", he said when Kreacher appeared.

They quickly setup a projection pensieve, and arranged a couple of dozen or so chairs in front of it. The entire area was warded against most wizard magic, so the prisoners couldn't apparate out or escape in some other fashion. They brought in the prisoners (well, rats, actually, and thank God for the meticulous labelling they had done!), all except children less than eight, turned them back into people, and sat them down.

(He had debated with himself if he should leave out all the children less than eleven. But then, Harry was not even eight, and he had actually been tortured, so he set that as the age limit. No harm adding to the guilty feeling the parents may have on seeing this, he thought cruelly).

He quietly told Kreacher to watch the reactions of people when Harry's torture was being shown, and started the show.

"You are all here because one of your fellow death-eaters, one of your fellow followers of the half-blood bastard who calls himself Lord Voldemort, kidnapped the boy-who-lived, and threatened to kill him".

There were shouts of outrage, though it wasn't quite clear what the outrage was for. For some, it was because they last remembered themselves being at home, and now suddenly there were in some strange dungeon, along with several more people. For some, it was that this was the Phantom, who had killed some of their comrades.

But at least the most vocal of them appeared to be angry at his use of their precious Dark Lord's name, and calling him a bastard on top.

"How dare you use the Dark Lord's name, and how dare you call him a bastard? You will suffer for this", said Rowle.

"Because he _is_ a half-blood bastard. Look up Tom Marvolo Riddle when you get some time; he is the son of a muggle and a near-squib. But that is not what we are here for. We are here because I want to show you what Dolohov did to Harry Potter, and I want to then show you what I will do to people who try that sort of thing again".

He silenced their protests, and started the pensieve. He showed only selected segments - the whole thing would be too long, and pointless for this crowd.

The children were aghast. Some of the younger ones were weeping at the sight of Harry's torture, and their mothers seemed to be equally affected, though it was less visible.

He played the torture in a loop, while he conferred with Kreacher. They finally came up with a list of women and children who appeared to be suitably affected by this - some had gone from disgust to anger, and were looking daggers at some of the more well-known death-eaters, as if they were responsible. ( _And really, they could have been; it just happened to be Dolohov, but by all accounts at least three others would have been able to do this_ , thought Hobby).

Hobby pulled those women and children out, and had Kreacher take them to the second dining room, and provide them food and beverages. He briefly addressed them there, saying "Soon most of your husbands will be with you and you can all go home". And despite a flurry of questions ("Most? What do you mean 'most'?"), he did not hang around, going back to where all the menfolk were.

There were also two men who seemed to be badly affected by the torture. He recognised them instantly, of course - Goyle and Crabbe were the spitting images of their children, except for looking their age.

Finally, he took a good, long, look at Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy. Both of them had been whispering to each other quietly, although neither of them looked exultant or happy - whether they were truly repentant of their old ways, or whether the idea of doing this to a child who was a wee bit younger than their own, was anathema, Hobby did not know. In other words, not a clean chit in general, but just for this episode. _Well, to be honest, I have not heard much of their sinister planning at the dining table lately, so who knows_ , he mused. (If only he had know why that was...)

He gathered all these people together, and addressed them in a slightly (very slightly) friendlier voice.

"I have one thing to show you all, then I am letting you all go. I am also explicitly recanting my previous statement that if _anything_ bad happens I will kill Lucius and Narcissa, because it is very clear that they had nothing to do with Harry's kidnapping, and that they are not gloating to see the torture of a child, and instead appear to be unhappy about it. For whatever reason.

In the meantime, please wait here, and watch and listen".

He then spoke to the rest of the men.

"You people appear to not be too badly affected by this. I am going to give each of you veritaserum, and ask you only one question. The answer will decide whether you live or die today."

One by one, he pulled up each of them. There were nine, all men.

Avery. Gibbon. Jugson. Mulciber. Nott. Rowle. Selwin. Travers. Yaxley.

One by one he administered veritaserum and asked them the all-important question.

"If you had an opportunity to kidnap and torture Harry Potter tomorrow, would you take it? Remember he is a seven year old child".

Three of them said "no" reasonably emphatically and without any struggle. Gibbon, Jugson, and Nott were sent to sit with the Malfoys, Crabbe, and Goyle. He told them the same thing - he needed to show them something, then they were free to go.

Two of them - Avery and Mulciber - were borderline. They appeared to struggle a little, but eventually said "no". Hobby decided to do the same with them, but monitor them regularly.

The last four - Rowle, Selwin, Travers, and Yaxley - said "yes".

Hobby turned to the eight men and one woman waiting on the side, watching what was happening.

"These four men, as you have seen yourself just now, are willing to torture a seven year old child if they had the opportunity. At the age of seven, a child is neither dark nor light; which means - if they deem the situation to be such - they would have no problem torturing _your_ children either, at least three of whom are the same age as Harry."

They looked a bit sceptical, so he decided on another demo.

He again dosed the four men with veritaserum, and, again, one by one, asked them this question: "If there was a possibility - but not a certainty - of gaining favour with your dark lord by torturing Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, or Gregory Goyle, would you take a chance and do it? Remember they are seven years old".

All of them answered "yes".

Hobby turned to the five parents (four fathers and one mother) and raised an eyebrow.

"You have seen what I have seen. I am sure you will not turn against the light side now, but here is what will happen to you if I am convinced you are turning to the dark, and I catch you _before_ you do something really bad".

With that, he turned all four men into rats, and made the transformation permanent with a parseltongue password. Since the only other person who could speak parsel was Tom, he used an insulting phrase that Tom would die rather than speak, if he even guessed it in the first place.

"This is now their permanent form". He gave Malfoy his wand. "Lucius, try to turn them back, you probably consider yourself the most powerful wizard here".

Of course, since the parseltongue password was spoken in a very low voice, they did not even know there was a password, leave alone being able to guess it and _say_ it.

He gave Narcissa the same chance, and then Avery and Nott. No dice.

"The fun part is this: inside, they know who they are, and know what I have done to them. They can see and hear everything, but cannot respond. They have no magic, and cannot do anything to retaliate". He then called Kreacher and told him to put the rats in their special cages, and arrange them to also be spectators to the next part of the program.

"Now I will sh-", began Hobby, before he was interrupted by Narcissa. "Kreacher", she said loudly. "Why and how are you following orders from the Phantom? Is the Phantom actually Lord Black?"

Kreacher looked at Hobby. Hobby just shrugged his shoulders; he had already coached Kreacher - long ago - on what he was to say if this ever came out.

"Oh no, Mistress Malfoy, this is not Lord Black. Lord Black is elsewhere. I follow the Phantom's orders because he was once Lord Black".

And try as they might, that was all they could get out of him on that subject, which left them even more confused, because - as everyone knows - all the Lords Black before Sirius were blood purists and would not have even blinked at torturing a half-blood child.

Hobby waited for that issue to fade, then resumed what he was saying.

"Now I will show you what happens to people who actually manage to harm innocents, once I catch them."

Dolohov was looking alright, for someone who nearly died last night. Of course, Hobby was not going to mention his past injuries to the others - no point revealing how he was thwarted.

He gave him veritaserum, and had him admit that he had kidnapped and tortured Harry, just in case there were any doubts.

Then he started the torture. Without using a single curse, using only muggle methods and tools - the cigar cutter, used on each segment of each finger, was particularly gruesome - he reduced Dolohov to an agony filled wreck.

In the hour or so that followed, Hobby was a maniac. Later, he would sit by himself, almost catatonic, for several hours, but right now, he had a very important message to send, and being squeamish would not help at all.

He did not spare Dolohov, not did he spare his audience the horrifying visuals. Bones. Teeth. Tongue. The soles of feet and the palms of hands. Knee and elbow joints. All were subject to systematic torture and excruciating pain. Hobby was not above subtly amplifying the screams too, for effect, because - ultimately - this was for the audience, not for Dolohov himself. He was a dead man anyway.

All through, Hobby kept him awake and aware, magically forcing pepper-up and other such potions down his throat when it seemed he would faint away.

When he noticed Goyle retching, he stopped. He fed some more veritaserum to Dolohov, then asked him, "Shall I continue this, or would you prefer the good old cruciatus?"

Dolohov, blind, his eyes having been destroyed - painfully of course - what to him seemed a decade ago, turned to Hobby's voice, and gasped out in agony. "Cruciatus, please".

Hobby finished him off with a reducto, then turned to Malfoy and company, who were staring open-mouthed.

"As you can see, I can do things that will make the cruciatus look like the better alternative. This is what awaits you if you stray from the path I have set out for you. I will be watching".

He told Kreacher to take the four rats to the special holding cells in the dungeons. He then made a portkey out of a large towel, and had the other nine, as well as the women and children waiting in the second dining room, all touch it. He whispered a word and they were all whisked off to the front gate of the Malfoy estate. They would sort themselves out from there; he didn't need to go overboard on being nice to them.

* * *

 **1988-06-24 05:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Hermione had asked to sleep-over the previous night. The Grangers were reluctant to let go of their little child so soon after the horrific experience, and they had stayed over the night before anyway (though the adults did not really get much sleep - a few winks snatched on a sofa here or a couch there was about it, while the kids were recovering).

Mooney suggested that Harry should go over to the Grangers instead, but Sirius looked equally uncomfortable with letting Harry go.

Tacitly acknowledging that Sirius was being just as logical (or otherwise) as she was, Mrs Granger invited him and Remus to come over and spend the night. "We have one guest room with two beds, and another with one", she said.

But Mooney had other things to do anyway, so he had begged off, and, after a while, left.

So Sirius and Harry spent the night in the Grangers' guest room. Sirius had half a mind to not sleep, but keep watch over Harry - however unreasonable and unrealistic that was (and really, how long could he have kept it up?). Even if his mind told him to do that, his body betrayed him - within an hour he was fast asleep, the stress of the events having taken a toll.

Harry, for his part, was unable to sleep much, and found himself awake very early in the morning. He had, after all, slept very late the previous day, plus all the nutrient and healing potions had worked. Physically, he was feeling in top form.

His mental state was another matter. Several emotions were warring within him. What Sirius and Remus had told him of the events of Halloween 1981 had not - till now - really percolated into his consciousness. It felt more like something that happened to someone else, because he couldn't see any immediate impact to his life.

Sure, Sirius and Remus warned him to be careful of strangers and so on, but that wasn't so much different from what muggle schools taught children anyway. It certainly did not convey any sense of him being a bigger target.

But more than this sudden realisation that he was apparently a magnet for various kinds of low-life magical people, what hit him really hard was that he had dragged his friend into it.

Harry was obviously too young (way, way, too young) to feel anything but friendship with Hermione. Neither he, nor Hermione, were anywhere near what - unbeknownst to them - Hobby was hoping they would eventually become.

But that did not mean his feelings were not strong. For someone at that age, a strong emotional connection is usually with a parent or a sibling. Having had neither all these years, Hermione represented the single biggest emotional attachment Harry had. Even Sirius was second to her, albeit a very, very, close second.

Sirius and Remus would be offended. Well, Sirius at least would be. But if they sat and thought for a bit, they'd realise this did not mean Harry had no place for them in his heart; it only meant that he gave higher priority to someone who was an equal than someone who was a parental figure, an "adult", if you will. And after all, he had known Sirius only a few months more than he had known Hermione, so perhaps that was a factor too.

And so he thought of Hermione, pulled into his world without being given a choice. Oh sure, she was a witch, and would eventually be a part of the _wizarding_ world, but this was more - she was a part of _Harry Potter's_ world, which - apparently - was significantly more dangerous than the wizarding world in general.

He wondered briefly if he should stay away from her, for her own safety, but he knew he could not. Firstly, he didn't think he could bear being alone and friendless again. That is to say, sure he had a few classmates he got on OK with, but they were not really _friends_ in any meaningful sense, and certainly were absolutely nowhere near Hermione.

Secondly, and more importantly, he knew what her reaction would be if he tried to stay away. He'd already seen it back in that dungeon, when she had said, most emphatically, that she would not let him go for whatever stupid reason he came up with.

While he was thinking of all these things, he felt someone quietly knock on his door, so quietly that if he were truly asleep he would not have been disturbed. He got up just as quietly and opened the door, to find Hermione standing there.

"You woke up too early too, huh?", he said.

"Yeah. Let's go down to the living room; we can always come back to our rooms to brush and wash later".

Once they had settled themselves on a sofa in the living room, she said, "Harry, I know we've started learning martial arts, but shouldn't we also start learning magical fighting?"

"We are not allowed to have a wand till we are eleven, Hermione, and even then we are not allowed to do magic outside of school till we are seventeen", he reminded her.

"Hmm, that would be a problem", she acknowledged. "But how do people find out? Can we do it without them finding out?"

"I don't know. We'd have to ask Sirius I guess", he said.

They sat quietly for some time. Then, just as they were about to go back to their respective rooms (even though they still were not feeling sleepy), they heard a quiet pop.

Hobby appeared in front of them, and Hermione almost shrieked. Harry quickly put his hand over her mouth, quieting her.

Once he was sure she had calmed down, Harry removed his hand from her mouth, and put his hand around her shoulders. "Easy there Hermione, that's Hobby, an elf, and he's a very good friend of ours".

Hermione looked at him with eyes wide. Harry gazed calmly at her and answered her unasked question. "Yes, really!", he said. Seeing that Hermione still appeared to be a bit out of it, he pulled her closer and hugged her.

"Hermione, listen to me. Humans are not the only magical beings; there are several other kinds. Two that I have met so far are goblins and house-elves, but there are other kinds too", explained Harry.

He would probably have explained some more, but Hobby coughed gently, and both kids turned to him. Hermione still looked a wee bit uncomfortable, but not too much. Harry was grinning broadly.

"Hi Hobby, how are you?"

"I'm good, Harry! Hello, Hermione, my name is Hobby. Pleased to meet you", and he held out his hand for her to shake.

Hermione slowly held out her hand and shook Hobby's hand, saying, "Pleased to meet you too, Hobby. I'm sorry for my initial reaction".

"I quite understand, Miss Hermione. Why if I were a muggle-born and never met or heard of an elf I would probably do the same", he smiled.

"Harry, would Hobby know the answer to what we were discussing?", asked Hermione, who had by now recovered her poise enough to let her natural curiousity out again.

"Let's ask!", grinned Harry. "Hobby, Hermione and I want to practice magic, including magical fighting. We're already learning muggle fighting, which is called _martial arts_ , but after what happened now, we want to learn magical fighting too. Do you think that is possible?"

Hobby stared at them for a second, then asked, "Was this your idea, Harry, or Hermione's?"

"Well, it was hers. Then I said we're not allowed to. And Hermione wondered how anyone finds out, and if we can somehow find a way to do it without people finding out."

Hobby turned to Hermione. With a small smile on his face, he asked, "Hermione, let me get this straight. You asked if it were possible to get around some rules or do something without being caught?"

Hermione was hesitant at first, then quickly turned defiant. "Yes. I think it's a stupid rule. In any case, such rules should not be applied blindly and universally."

"Oh I completely agree, Hermione, but I want to understand your reason for wanting to break this rule", prodded Hobby.

"Because of what happened yesterday, of course. Isn't that enough?"

"You were only involved by chance. No one is out for you; you could stay away from all this".

"And leave Harry alone to deal with it? What kind of friend do you think I am?", she retorted heatedly.

Hobby looked at her shrewdly. "Would you ask to break the rules if it was only you yourself in danger?"

"I don't know. Maybe", she replied. "It depends on what kind of danger it is. I hardly think I would attract the same kind of danger as Harry apparently does".

Hobby pulled up a chair and sat down, thinking deeply. He knew a lot of people in his world thought of Hermione as someone who did everything by the book, followed all the rules, respected authority figures, etc., during her Hogwarts years. He had always found it difficult to reconcile that image with the girl who set fire to Snape's robes. Less then six months into her first year, no less. He could remember other incidents too, if he put his mind to it. But then, very few outside his small group knew of these incidents, so it was an easy mistake for ill-informed people to think of her as a rule-follower. _More fool them!_ , he mused.

He was suddenly hit by an epiphany. _Hermione followed rules and respected authority, as long as he (Harry) was safe and happy. When that was threatened in any way, she was willing to break any rules that needed to be broken, and suddenly respect was in scarce supply_. He grinned to himself as he realised this.

 _And if I myself did not realise this sufficiently in time to make her my girlfriend, can I really blame the rest of the world for thinking she was a strict rule-follower?  
_

Meanwhile, the two kids were looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

"We both know where we can do that, Harry, though you seem to have forgotten", he looked at Harry askance. "However, we need to get permission from _them_ , as well as Hermione's parents and Sirius, first".

He looked off into the distance for a few seconds, then smiled, as if he were having a private conversation with someone.

"Alright, kids, I have asked Kreacher to get us all some hot chocolate. Drink up, then go back to your beds, even if it is only for an hour or so. Once everyone is awake, I will deal with this".

Just as he said it, Kreacher popped in with a tray, on which there were four (yes, four!) mugs of steaming hot chocolate. They all took one cup each, including Kreacher (albeit a bit hesitantly, as if he were doing something not quite legal!), and sat silently sipping the drinks. When done, Kreacher popped away with the mugs, and the kids went back to their rooms, although not before Hermione had introduced herself to Kreacher with a bright smile, and forced him to introduce himself too.


	26. Chapter 26: a slip here, a slip there

Chapter 26: A slip here, a slip there...

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** Additional AN: a minor bit of bad news is that I have run out of my pre-written chapters (I was 8 chapters ahead when I started, now I am down to just this one and the next). If real life continues the way it has been the past few weeks, I may end up skipping a week here and there. I'll try and mitigate that by posting as and when I finish one, rather than doing it only on Sunday.

* * *

 **1988-06-24 08:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Harry and Hermione were in the living room, watching cartoons on TV, by the time the adults had woken up, washed and brushed, and came down.

Remus had popped in a few minutes ago, and as Mrs Granger came down the stairs, he stood up and smiled at her. "I hope you don't mind me barging in. I know you invited me last night, and I assume that offer still stands! I generally join these two kids for breakfast".

"Oh it's perfectly fine Remus, you're welcome any time. But what do you mean 'two kids'?" She did not think Hermione was having breakfast with Harry so often.

Remus nodded toward Sirius. "Oh Sirius may be my physical age, but there are times when his mental age regresses to something much lesser!", he laughed.

Mrs Granger laughed, then turned to Hermione. "What time did you two wake up?", said Mrs Granger.

"About an hour ago, mum", said Hermione. "But before that, we both found we were awake at 5am or so, and we spent some time chatting here. Then an elf came and talked to us about learning magical fighting, then we had some hot chocolate, and then we went back to our beds."

For some reason, Mrs Granger missed the bit about the elf. "Hot chocolate? But we ran out, and I was going to get some today. Where did you find any?"

"Oh Sirius's elf brought it in for us. Probably from Sirius's kitchen", she giggled, looking at Sirius.

"Very likely", said Sirius. "Meanwhile, it seems your mother has been frozen. Harry, perhaps you would like to explain elves to her?"

"And to me", said Mr Granger, not to be forgotten!

So Harry explained.

"Umm, elves, or rather house-elves, and I don't know why they're called that because I don't know if there's other kinds, like maybe an 'office-elf' or a 'garden-elf'? Anyway a house-elf is a small being-"

"A sentient being, mum, not an animal like a dog or a cat. Fully sentient and able to converse in English", interrupted Hermione.

"Thanks Hermione", said Harry, making a mental note to ask her what _sentient_ meant, later. He turned again to Mrs Granger, and continued the explanation.

"They love to help us humans. Some bad wizards take advantage of this and turn them into some sort of slaves, treating them badly, etc., but the good wizards and witches don't do that. They treat them OK I guess, though Sirius tells me no one treats their elves like we treat Kreacher."

"Can we see these elves?", said Mr Granger.

"Sure. Kreacher, could you come here a second please?", said Harry. And Kreacher popped in.

"Kreacher, as you know by now, miss Hermione is magical, which means her family is allowed to know about magic. This is Mr Granger, and this is Mrs Granger". Then he turned to the Grangers, and said "This is Kreacher, who is the Black family elf. He normally resides in the old Black manor in London, but he is trained to listen to his family and will come when they call him".

"And what is this about learning magical fighting?", asked Mr Granger, looking at Kreacher.

"Oh that was not Kreacher", said Harry. "Hobby, are you free?", he called out into the air.

Hobby popped in immediately. "Hello, master Harry and miss Hermione. Good morning Lord Black, sir, good morning Mr Granger and Mrs Granger", he chirped brightly.

Hermione smiled a distracted "hello" back at him, but she was clearly thinking furiously. Something did not add up.

Meanwhile, her father had a bee in his bonnet.

"Hello Hobby, I am Hermione's father. I wanted to ask what you meant by suggesting that they learn magical fighting".

"Oh no Mr Granger sir, I did not suggest it, that was master Harry and miss Hermione. But I did say I know of a way for them to learn it without underage magic being detected".

Then of course, they had to explain underage magic to the Grangers, but once that was done, Sirius spoke up.

"I suppose you mean Grimmauld? That place is in good shape now, and Kreacher has done a wonderful job. It would be an ideal place to learn magical fighting. Remus and I-"

"Umm sorry, I am not sure I will have that kind of time available", interrupted Remus. "I would really love to, but business is booming, and I am not pulling my weight as it is." He looked at Harry apologetically. "Harry, I'm really sorry! I will make it up to you somehow, once things settle down; is that OK?"

Harry gave him a hug. "Of course uncle Mooney, no problem; I understand".

"But that leaves us with a slight problem. I am decent at magical fighting, but I am not that good at many of the other things, and you really should not be learning only the fighting without some grounding in the basic subjects".

"What are those subjects", Hermione asked eagerly.

"Oh, transfiguration and charms, mainly. Potions and herbology are also first year subjects but are less important for fighting".

"If I may interject, Lord Black sir", said Hobby. "I did not mean Grimmauld. I think Nick and Penny would be perfectly happy to be introduced to miss Hermione, and they already love master Harry anyway."

"Oh excellent, why did I not think of that!" Sirius made a _doh_ face, then grinned.

"Who are Nick and Penny?"

Remus decided to take this on. He knew "Flamel" was a known name even in the muggle world.

"Well, Nick is Nicholas Flamel. And yes, by your gasp, Mrs Granger, you have heard of him from the muggle history side of things. The fact is, he is real, he is a wizard, and he does have a Philosopher's Stone. He and his wife Perenelle, who likes to go by 'Penny', are over six hundred years old."

"And Harry knows them?"

"We all know them. But we have the feeling that is only because of Harry", smiled Remus, looking fondly at Harry.

 _You have no idea how close to the truth you are, Mooney old boy_ , thought Hobby.

And so it was decided that they would ask the Flamels if they would teach Hermione and Harry whatever they could, to help them protect themselves - even if only a little - if something bad happened again.

* * *

Hermione had not spoken much, except to ask what subjects were to be taught. Something was clearly up.

"Hobby, Harry is not your master, why do you come when he calls?"

"Aah, that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about today, miss Hermione. You see, an elf is _bound_ to answer a call from his or her _family_ , but can _choose_ to answer calls from anyone else too, as long as his or her master allows".

Then he turned to Harry. "Now, master Harry, my master regrets very much that he did not tell you this much earlier. Your ordeal of two days ago would have been much much shorter if he had". He paused.

"I would like to tell you - **all** of you, including the Granger adults, not just miss Hermione - something. This could be very important for your safety".

He had their undivided attention. Well, Sirius and Remus were merely looking interested, the others were interested and surprised.

"The thing is, my master is a much more powerful wizard than any others you know, even Dumbledore. Between us, we know that he got Lord Black out of Azkaban. So if anything similar happens again, you need to call me. I will come, and I will work out where we are, and I will tell my master where you are so he can come. It doesn't matter how many, and what kinds, of wards there are. It doesn't matter if the house is under a Fidelius" - here Hermione looked up; you could almost hear her making a mental note to ask what that is later - "I can come in, and I can tell my master enough to let him come in."

Remus was very thoughtful. "Hobby, your master has agreed to let you answer any of us?"

"Yes Mr Mooney sir".

"And you are saying he can get into a Fidelius charmed location".

"Yes Mr Mooney sir. My master _is_ that powerful".

"OK, but if it's under the Fidelius, how will you _tell_ him where it is so he can come? Because that should be impossible, as far as I know of the Fidelius".

Hobby paled. He started stuttering, "I- I- Err, I am sorry Mr Mooney sir, that is a family secret of my masters, and I am not permitted to discuss that."

Hobby knew that was lame, but it seemed no one was willing to call him out on it right away. Mooney contented himself with giving him a sharp look, held the stare for a good few seconds, then turned and walked out of the room without a word.

* * *

 **1988-06-24 22:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

"What was it you wanted to speak to me about, Sirius", said Mooney. He'd just apparated in after his workday was done.

"I wanted to sound you out on some odd things I have been seeing and hearing".

"Odder than someone managing to get around the Fidelius?"

"No, but odd enough. And combined with the Fidelius thing, makes for a much bigger puzzle".

"Well, I've got stuff too, but you first", said Sirius.

Remus sat back and composed his thoughts. "It's very strange", he said. "Sometimes I can convince myself I was only imagining it, but at other times, I can hear him clear as a bell, though not loudly of course. When he was asking you for pepper-up, the Phantom appeared to mumble to himself, _very_ quietly, ' _and once again she saved him_ '. What does that mean?"

Sirius was shocked. "You mean", he almost shouted, then composed himself. No sense waking Harry inadvertently. "You mean something like this has already happened once?"

"If so, wouldn't either or both of the kids have mentioned it to us?"

It took only a few seconds for Sirius to get angry again. "They must have been memory charmed! And this Phantom must have done it, otherwise how could he know?"

"Oh I don't know if he would do that. Maybe. But that was not my point", said Remus.

Sirius made an irritated 'well go on then' gesture.

"He clearly _knew_ Hermione was magical. In fact, I'll bet making you buy this house has nothing to do with that school, as he said, but with Hermione being next door. This is not a 'seer', these are too specific to come from any seer I ever heard of".

"Yes. And that reminds me", continued Sirius. "Have you ever heard of a seer who knows a child's favourite foods? The books he wanted to read but was not allowed to? He knew the state of Harry's health, Mooney - he had the right set of nutrient and digestive potions brewed by Penny and kept ready. _Seer_ my arse; whoever this guy is, has been spying on Harry."

"Do we trust him at all? Didn't you once tell me Nick and Penny swear by him, and trust him implicitly? Can you tell me about that again?", asked Remus.

Sirius nodded. "That's the _only_ reason I am not panicking. We know his powers; if he meant to harm Harry, he could have killed him several times already. Even his elf Hobby seemed to be deeply affected when he heard the kids were kidnapped. And Nick and Penny specifically said he was only interested in Harry's welfare, and everything he was doing was geared toward Harry's long term happiness and well-being. I just wish I knew _why_ ", he whined.

"Still, it's definitely a mystery. Now, what was it you wanted to say?", said Remus.

"Well, this morning, I couldn't sleep. I woke up and - as I often do - checked up on Harry. You know he used to have nightmares when he first came to us; I'd got into the habit of checking on him at random times in the night then, though I stopped after a few months when he got better. I guess this incident shook something loose in my head and got me doing it again".

"Anyway", he continued, "Harry wasn't in his bed. But I could hear voices from the living room. So I crept down silently, to see who it was. Whatever it was, didn't sound like he was in danger or something, so I didn't want to rush in and possibly scare him needlessly".

He got a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was trying to remember something precisely.

"When I came to the door, I stopped to listen. The voices were clearly Harry and Hermione, and it seemed as if Hobby had just popped in, and Harry was explaining elves to Hermione. Then Harry said hello to Hobby. Hobby greeted him back, and then he did something very odd, which I have never seen before".

Remus was all ears, and made an annoyed noise when Sirius stopped. The fact that he had done the same a few minutes earlier was completely lost on him of course!

"He addressed Harry as 'Harry'. Not 'master Harry', as he usually does. Same with Hermione. This made me very curious, and I cautiously peeked in. Guess what?"

Remus growled again. "Get on with it, Paddy!"

"He said 'Nice to meet you', or something like that, just like you and I would. And then", here Sirius's eyes bored into Remus, as if to underscore how serious he was. "And then, he held out his hand for her to shake!"

"Well Hobby is an unusual elf. But he never shook hands with either of us when we met, as far as I can remember anyway. He merely bowed, if I am not mistaken."

"My point exactly, Mooney. We all knew that elf was not a normal elf, but now I am wondering if he was raised as an elf at all. It's almost as if he was _raised as a wizard_ ", hissed Sirius in a whisper, as if Hobby may be hiding around the corner, listening.

"Yeah; I remember you told me he taught Harry how to operate the TV remote".

"Yes, and I found out later that some of that stuff even Hermione's parents did not know - something that got you program listings on the screen, and subtitles for many programs. I think it was called 'see facts'. Dr Granger was astonished to see Harry casually perusing listings on the TV, and he complimented me on knowing all that, thinking I had taught Harry. I said nothing at the time, but later Harry told me Hobby had showed him."

"I don't count that as such a big deal; in fact what's unusual is Dr Granger _not_ knowing about it. It's not 'see facts', it's _Ceefax_ , very likely a play on 'see facts' though, and it's a pretty common thing for us, Sirius".

"Regardless, a house-elf teaching muggle technology to a child has got to be weird!", maintained Sirius hotly. He felt as if his point was being unmade by Remus.

"Anyway, there's more. Somewhere along the way, he referred to me as 'Sirius'. Again, not 'Lord Black', not even 'Mr Black'. Just 'Sirius'".

"And then", Sirius had more to say, it seemed. "He said something like 'Alright kids'. Ever heard an elf do that? And after that, it was clear he had given orders to Kreacher to bring hot chocolate, and they all sat down - just like you and I and the kids would - and had the chocolate".

By this time Remus was also looking as if he had started to believe Sirius had a point.

"It does seem very funny. So we have a very mysterious master - who, don't forget, got _you_ out of Azkaban - and an equally mysterious elf".

"Yes. A master who has strong opinions on things and has made sure his elf also thinks the same way. Not that I mind; I'm just saying."

"Oh and about Hobby, I think, despite all these points you made, you missed the most important one", said Remus seriously.

"What?"

"Remember when I suggested we give Greyback a fair chance?"

Sirius was blank for half a second, then he drew in a sharp breath. "His eyes flashed _green_ for a second!"

"Yes. And _that_ , my friend, is something I have _never_ heard of, and cannot be explained in any way whatsoever, regardless of how close he and his master are, and how much of his personality his master gave the elf".

* * *

 **1988-06-25 21:00 UTC, Malfoy Manor**

Curiously, around the same time the next day, a completely different - in all imaginable ways - pair were discussing something. While the starting point of their discussion could not be further from what our marauders had started with, they would, eventually, come to some surprisingly similar, yet not at all the same, conclusions.

"Why did Dolohov do this? Was there any provocation for it?", asked Narcissa.

"I do not know. I wish I had had the time to interrogate him. But I've been hearing rumours of unrest among our Lord's faithful. Unrest directed at _me_!"

"Why? What's their grouse? We've done more for-"

Lucius interrupted her, saying, "it's not what we've done. It's what we've not done. They see the Phantom as a symbol of our failure, and since I have always set myself up as the leader, second only to our Lord, then - in his absence - it is my failure. To put it bluntly, they expected me to do something about the Phantom, but saw me docilely acquiesce to his conditions instead."

Narcissa pondered this for a bit. "I'm willing to bet the people in that camp are those without families, or at least without young children".

Lucius smiled grimly. "Yes, and I do get support, even if it is only tacit, from those that do. You saw them yesterday, well most of them anyway".

"But", he continued, "make no mistake. If the dark lord were still with us, having children would not be an excuse! In any case, I need to get back my leadership position. I don't want to be seen as having 'lost it'".

"Yes, I think it is time we got back into the game. We ought to be able to protect Draco well enough not to worry about that. I mean, Macnair managed to get him only because we were very lax. We can easily fix that. Once we do, we need to direct our attentions, not toward any of the people that the Phantom is interested in protecting, but against the Phantom himself. That would not even violate his conditions, as far as I can remember them!", said Narcissa.

Lucius thought a bit. "I think that is true; I don't recall his letters ever saying he himself was to be left alone."

"And therein lies a tale", he continued. "I have something rather puzzling to talk about, in this context".

He looked at her for a second, gauging her mood. He knew she was aware of all the young girls he had kidnapped at various times over the years. Most of the wives knew, and even the ones who didn't, knew now because of the Phantom's open letter a couple of years ago. And in any case, that was all history now; no one was doing those things anymore. And they wouldn't, not while the Phantom was an active threat, even if he regretted not being able to teach Draco the wonderful pleasures of torturing muggles.

"The first thing that caught my attention was how a girl that was in my dungeons for eight months, actually turned out to be Flint's boy, who had been missing only for seventeen days. Clearly, someone rescued the girl and replaced her with a transformed Flint junior.

It must have been the Phantom. But the question in my mind was, why did he treat this specific girl differently than all the others? Why not do with her what he did with the others?"

"Well, the rescue of the others happened on the 13th. The Flint boy had been missing since New Years Day, so clearly the exchange was made then. So the girl we had in our dungeons was not the original at the time of the rescue. And rescuing one of the 'enemy' was not something he wanted to do, so he just left her. Err, I mean him", reasoned Narcissa.

"Alright, but the question still remains. Why treat that girl specially, what happened on January 1st, and why did it happen only here, and why did nothing similar happen in the other five manors where similar prisoners were being kept?"

"Good point. Also, how? He could not have got into our dungeon - that should be impossible, regardless what powers he may claim. Maybe he has dark powers and has performed rituals to get him past any wards?"

"Cissy, you know there are light rituals also that can give you such powers, even if we suppress knowledge of them to be safe", laughed Lucius.

"So, anyway", he continued, "I have had my suspicions, and they were only deepened when we met that old Black elf yesterday, who said the Phantom **was once** Lord Black", said Lucius.

"I wonder how that could be true. In fact, I wonder **who** he is. I don't know of any Lord Black except Sirius who would throw his lot in with mudbloods", muttered Narcissa. "Do you think the elf was lying, and that it actually _was_ Sirius?"

"I doubt it. If I had asked the question? Maybe. But you are still a Black - he cannot outright lie to you.

Anyway it doesn't matter who it is; just that it is someone. Since most of our wealth comes from the Black family, and Lord Black can - if he wished to - reclaim upto half of it simply by stating that he was unhappy about something in our marriage, I strongly suspect he has quietly claimed Dobby."

" **What?** How is that possible? Dobby was born long after our marriage so he is not Black property".

"I suspect that does not matter either. He could claim him instead of something else of equal value. The contract only specifies 'value', it does not specify what precisely can be taken".

"Sounds pretty far-fetched".

"There's more. There were two men among the prisoners, who had, _apparently_ , killed themselves, and that in a most horrific way too. One day I suddenly realised that that was very unusual. This was a few weeks after all those events. On a hunch, I went back to where I had first picked them up."

"Stop doing those dramatic pauses and get on with it", she growled, unknowingly mirroring a werewolf who was doing almost the same thing at almost the same time!

"The two men were there. Very much alive. And quite happy, healthy, and apparently with no memory of their time in my dungeon".

"So it was not just the girl that was rescued on January 1st; it was everyone in _our_ dungeons", said Narcissa.

Lucius nodded.

"Have you visited the girl herself? The real one? I assume you remember where you picked her up".

"I tried, but I felt powerful wards. I didn't want to risk alerting the Phantom just yet, so I stayed well clear and left. I can assure you those wards were not there earlier, and so I am sure the girl is there, safe and sound."

"She should be in Hogwarts by now; we cou- Oh we have no one there now, with Severus gone".

"Indeed. I would not suggest asking any of the students we might know; they're all too young - barely first years at this time", said Lucius.

"So, back to Dobby. How do we prove he has been claimed? Give him a direct order that he would not do if he belonged to the Phantom and see what he does?"

"You cannot have failed to notice that, for the past year or more, I have kept him somewhat away from our presence, and indeed have not given him more than a token order here and there to keep up the pretense. I do not want to give a direct order that he may wish to disobey, and thus force the issue. I would prefer to watch him quietly for now. And if we have to discuss anything, we do it within privacy wards, even within our own home".

"I don't agree, Lucius", snarled Narcissa. "I am pretty sure this Phantom killed Macnair, and I am equally sure the location was chosen to implicate us, though we escaped any legal or other official action. If he does indeed have a house-elf within _our_ house, we have to get rid of that elf as soon as possible. However vigilant you and I may be, there will always be a slip here and there, and our plans for our world are too important for us to take that risk. We make sure he is loyal, or we kill him - there are no other alternatives".


	27. Chapter 27: A bit of a confrontation

Chapter 27: A bit of a confrontation

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Additional AN: It's hard to get accurate information on what the London Zoo looked like in 1989; most of what is there today seems to be 21st century!**

 **1988-07-31 09:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

"Mione, come on!", whined Harry. He took one look at the backpack Hermione was bringing along and knew what was happening. "No no no no, you are **not** bringing along any books today", he said a little more assertively.

Not that it did much good. "Oh Harry this is just a map, just in case, you know! And the rest are books about the zoo we're going to, kind of like guide books. We'll be able to plan out what animals we should see and in what order."

"Oh Mione", sighed Harry. He was used to this by now, and he really liked his best friend but sometimes it was a little annoying.

"Look, what did we discuss last night about our visit to the zoo today?", he asked.

"Umm, that we would just enjoy ourselves".

"Right, and that means don't make it like a study trip. If we don't see all the animals, we'll go again some other time. Take the map Mione but you really don't need the rest!"

She pouted a bit, but didn't seem to want to let go of her books, so he had to pull out the big guns.

"It's _my_ birthday", he whined, drawing out the "my" a little.

She gave up, as he knew she would. It was scary, to the adults, how well these two kids knew each other, but then having (almost) no other children for company would probably do that. And it's not that they lacked in social skills; after all they both went to a normal school with lots of children.

But, ever since that first incident of attempted physical bullying almost two years ago, the other children had seen how close these two were. Very few tried anything like that afterwards, and the few that did were quickly disabused of the belief that, being a girl, in one case, or being a little on the short and thin side, in the other, they could be bullied. After a couple of somewhat more serious incidents, people learned to leave them alone for the most part.

Unfortunately, this also had the effect of making them look a little aloof, possibly even a little scary, to many of the other, normal, kids. There were a few brave souls who realised that as long as you didn't try to bully or insult them in any way, Harry and Hermione were perfectly nice and easy to get on with, but even they did not get too close.

* * *

Hobby was watching all this with a smile on his face. He loved how he had set it up so Harry and Hermione would meet so early in the game. He _had_ worried that this might make them think of each other as siblings instead of as a romantic partner, and indeed there was still a very slim chance that might happen. He hoped it wouldn't but it was way too early - they were way too young - to say how it would go. It was a calculated risk, but he _had to_ get Harry a much more emotionally normal childhood, and who better to help with that than Hermione?

* * *

Sirius was also watching, but not Harry. He was watching Hobby. The elf seemed happy, and definitely did not - Remus could feel it in his bones - have any malicious intentions toward Harry. Yet his suspicions had not been completely allayed - at the very least Hobby owed him and Sirius some explanations. Besides, he always seemed to be either with them, or with Nick and Penny - his master didn't appear to need him any more!

He and Remus had decided to not say anything for now. They didn't have any reason to worry about Harry's safety - indeed the aforesaid master, the so-called Phantom, appeared to care a _lot_ for Harry. One was not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth, after all! And yet, the mystery remained. Who was this guy? Why did he care so much? Everyone has a reason - it didn't have to be a _selfish_ reason, but there had to _be_ one. And yet nothing so far had given them a clue.

* * *

Harry and Hermione were having fun. Hermione had - surprisingly _not_ so reluctantly, after all - left behind everything except a not-to-scale map of the zoo, which was something even Harry could not quibble at.

You could not really visit the entire zoo in one day - not if you wanted to spend a decent amount of time at each exhibit. So they each picked three things to see, and visited them in whatever order they figured, from the map, would save the most time.

They went to the aviary. They saw the lions and the tigers and the giraffes and zebras. They spent a lot of time at the aquarium, it was easily one of the most fascinating exhibits - weirdly, it even seemed to be more colourful despite being underwater, perhaps due to the lighting.

And then they went to the reptile house, and that's where things went slightly awry. For Harry, at first, and then for Hobby.

* * *

The largest snake in the reptile house was supposed to be - according to Hobby's memories - a Brazilian boa constrictor.

Hobby was planning to introduce Harry to the boa, or the other way around, in a sort of "deep end of the pool" way of helping him realise he was a parselmouth, preparatory to then explaining it all to Harry. He did not want a repeat of second year for Harry, which he blamed almost entirely on not knowing he was a parselmouth, and - worse - not knowing of the stigma associated with being one and the fear it engendered among lay wizarding people.

He needed to be told he should keep it quiet, but not in a way that made him fear or loathe himself or caused any other kind of worry. (It's a different matter that the diary was gone, so that precise sequence of events would not happen, but who knew what _else_ might happen!)

But there was no sign of the boa in the reptile house. He was sure it was a fully grown one in 1991, so - if the zoo acquired it soon after it was born - it would have been there in 1988.

Instead, what was there was a Black Mamba - much smaller, and not really black in color, disappointingly, but of course much more dangerous.

So now he found himself really puzzled. What the heck had happened to the boa he had met at this time in his life (well, give or take a few months)? The black mamba was not a snake to be taken lightly - it was not an easy-going beast, like the boa - so he abandoned his plans of having Harry talk to it.

* * *

Harry, meanwhile, was fascinated by the snake, and gazed at it through the glass. The snake gazed back at him, appearing somewhat arrogant and unfriendly, its tongue darting out once in a while.

Harry felt a quick surge of pity for the snake. "I bet you're bored!", he said.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "Harry, you were hissing at the snake".

"No I wasn't! I was just saying he must be bored", he retorted.

Hermione shook her head and turned her attention to the snake, as did Harry. The snake looked at him with an expression that could only be described as a sneer.

"Mind your own business, human! It's bad enough that your kind keeps barging in on my quiet time, and I am unable to retaliate. Oh how I would _love_ to bite a few of you... some deaths would surely help us live in peace!"

While the snake was ranting about this, Harry was getting confused and agitated. He had rejected Hermione's assertion that he was hissing, but now it appeared that the snake was speaking to him, and he could understand it. The extreme aggression the snake was displaying, which itself would have been cause for worry, had not really registered over the fundamental issue of "how the heck am I able to understand what the snake is saying?"

By the time the snake had finished its mini-rant, his worry had turned to fear. He backed off hurriedly from the glass wall and ran out of the building. Hermione ran out with him. She had no clue what had happened, but she was sure it was to do with his hissing. Regardless of what it was, she would be there for him, suppressing all her natural curiosity till a later (much later, if need be) time.

Sirius had elected to wait outside, and he rushed to Harry's side on seeing him exit the reptile house in that manner.

He knelt beside Harry, and spoke to him very quietly and gently, because Harry was still a little skittish when adults raised their voices at him in any manner.

"Harry, what's the matter? Are you hurt?"

He thought Harry had probably put his hand into some exhibit where he was not supposed to and had been bitten or something, so he started quietly checking Harry for any injuries.

Harry shook his head, but did not say a word, so Sirius looked at Hermione.

"I'm not quite sure, Sirius", she said. She seemed reluctant to say more, at least not while Harry seemed so out of it. But that was also a good excuse for her to not appear too unwilling to reply to Sirius's question - she turned to Harry and hugged him tightly, occasionally rubbing his back soothingly.

"You both stay here", said Sirius, and, before Hermione could reply, he darted into the reptile house to see if he could find what it was that caused his godson to become so upset.

His eyes fell on the most "out of place" thing there - Hobby! While the muggles could not see him, he had not made himself invisible to the two wizards and witch, and in fact Sirius had wondered where Hobby was when Harry was being spooked so badly by whatever it was that did so.

He walked quietly up - you can't yell at a being that was invisible to everyone else around you - and came up behind him, preparing to tap him on the shoulder and ask him to come out.

Only to stop dead in horror. A strange hissing sound was emanating from Hobby's mouth, and the snake appeared to be listening. Then Hobby stopped hissing, and the snake hissed something. Then Hobby hissed again, and - apparently having said what he wanted to - turned around.

Now it was Hobby's turn to stare in horror. Sirius had definitely heard him hissing, that much was clear.

* * *

It was a good thing they had kept the reptile house for one of the last things to see, because there was no question of continuing the trip anymore. Sirius quietly told Hobby to come home later that evening - he needed Remus by his side for this conversation. He then took Harry and Hermione to a somewhat secluded part of the zoo, and quietly apparated them home.

He spent a few minutes helping Harry settle down. Harry was responding to questions, but only of the "are you alright?" or "do you need something?" kind. About the incident itself, he was silent as a clam.

* * *

Harry himself was feeling scared beyond belief. While he did not know about the stigma attached to his skill, he was sure he had spoken to the snake, and he hated it simply from the point of view of it being so different from everyone else, because clearly Hermione could not, nor did he think Sirius could. His best defence in such situations had always been to clam up.

Of course, he hadn't reckoned with Hermione. She made sure he was comfortable, then she started on him.

"Harry, I am guessing you found out you can talk to the snake, am I right?"

Harry just nodded miserably. No point denying it.

"Harry, I think that is a cool skill to have, why do you seem upset?"

"Because it's one more thing that makes me different from all of you", said Harry.

"I'm not sure if we've discussed this before, but I do know you feel that being different is bad, somehow. I think we should talk about this, Harry. I, for one, think you're awesome, and I love all the things that make you different. They're all a part of you, my best friend-"

"Your _only_ friend", interrupted Harry, with a watery smile. Clearly Hermione's pep-talk had started working!

"My _only_ friend, yes. I love the fact that you're the only wizard in our school here. I love the fact that you have a loving family that's not quite what you'd picture when you hear the word 'family'. I don't love the fact that you spent your first few years with a bunch of morons, but I do love the fact that you came through without being too badly affected and are now happy".

"And I love the fact that you're running out of things to say, yet are still trying to cheer me up", grinned Harry, now fully out of his funk. He turned slightly, pulled Hermione close, and hugged her tightly.

"I love the fact that you can turn your emotions around so quickly", said Hermione, determined to show she still had something to say.

Harry laughed at her innate competitive spirit. He gave her a brilliant smile and said, "yes but that only happens when you are the one trying to turn me around".

Hermione just hugged him tighter and didn't say a word. She was sure there was more at stake here than a magical ability - she had also seen Sirius emerge from the reptile house looking shocked, and Hobby looking mortified and worried - both of which Harry had missed in his own state. There was clearly something going on here that needed to be looked into, but there was no point telling Harry all that right now and worrying him even more.

* * *

 **1988-07-31 20:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Hobby knew he was in a bit of trouble. Having a particularly liberal master could explain a lot of things, but not parseltongue. If it was considered a dark skill to have for a wizard, it had to be much, much, worse for an elf.

So he did the only thing he could. He brought reinforcements!

Harry's mood had gotten much better until about 7pm, when Hermione had gone home. Meanwhile, Sirius was still pretty serious (he didn't even joke about that word today!), and Remus was also looking a little worried, and both of them declined to either let Harry go with her for a sleepover, or for her to stay here.

That instantly brought Harry's mood, and birthday spirit, down, and that was the situation for the past hour or so. Harry was angry because neither of the adults had told him what he had done wrong, and yet they appeared to be punishing him. He wished aunt Penny and uncle Nick would come - it _was_ his birthday after all.

And then, like magic (duh!) there they were! They, and a house elf who looked more worried than Remus was, but aunt Penny was smiling and holding out her hands for a hug, and uncle Nick seemed to have something hidden behind his back - clearly his present - so Harry didn't care about Hobby.

He ran to aunt Penny and gave her a hug. She said "Happy Birthday, Harry!", and he simultaneously said "Thank you aunt Penny!". He then turned to uncle Nick and repeated the gesture and the thanks, carefully not looking at uncle Nick's hands or asking what he had.

 _Two years and he's still afraid to show excitement about a present that is obviously for him_ , thought Nick. Then he held out his right hand, and gave him a small bag, smiling encourangingly at him.

Harry took the offered bag and opened it, finding an assortment of sweets, toys, and books. Unlike anything his uncles had gotten him, these appeared to be from all over the world. He thanked them again, gave aunt Penny a hug, and went to his room to put away his new gifts.

"We need to talk", said Sirius, taking advantage of the few seconds that Harry was out of the room. "But we need to wait for Harry to go to bed".

"No. He must be included", said Nick.

Sirius considered again how much he owed these people, and Hobby's master. It was clear that, while he was Harry's legal guardian and was responsible for him, these people knew, and had known all along, a lot of things he had not known. Far more than could be explained by any excuses or rationale he was aware of.

And with two such powerful beings - and he had no illusions about that - it didn't seem like he had much of a choice.

Presently, Harry came down, still smiling from the happiness of seeing Nick and Penny. As he walked into the room, he saw how serious everyone was, and he became disheartened again. It seems that, rather than uncle Nick and aunt Penny lifting Sirius and Remus's moods, things had gone the other way.

Penny saw that immediately, and smiled at Harry, beckoning him to come to her and sit on her lap.

Having settled Harry on her lap, with one arm loosely around him, Penny spent a few minutes asking him what other presents he got, and which ones he liked best, and so on, making small talk but staying away from the topic of the zoo.

Once Harry had cheered up a bit, she looked expectantly at Sirius, as did Nick. But Sirius didn't seem to know how to start, so Remus started the ball rolling.

He turned to Hobby, who was standing beside Nick. "Over the last few weeks or so, we've noticed several odd things about you, Hobby", he said. "I think it's high time we received an explanation for all those things, starting with the latest one - today - where Sirius found you speaking to a snake".

At that, Harry looked alarmed. This was, of course, why Penny had asked him to perch on her lap; she just held him a wee bit tighter, as if to reassure him.

"There's nothing wrong with speaking to snakes, Remus. You're the last person I would have thought would be prejudiced due to a so-called _dark_ skill", said Penny.

"This is not prejudice, this is confusion. I've never heard of an elf talking to snakes. As far as I knew that was impossible", responded Remus.

"Well", said Nick. "We probably won't know for sure if that is possible or not, so we'll ignore that for now".

Sirius was puzzled. "I saw Hobby talking to a snake, I saw the snake talk back. Even if the actual sounds were not intelligible to me, and consisted only of various hisses, it was quite clear there was a _conversation_ going on. Hobby is an elf, so I don't know how you can say we won't know if an elf can be a parselmouth, although if you had told me before today I would not have believed it".

"This is... unfortunate", said Nick. "There are some things that we had never intended to reveal to you, and some that would have waited until Harry was a little older, but now I guess it is necessary. By the way, how's your occlumency?"

That didn't help with Sirius's stress levels at all! "Pretty good; I don't think anyone except you two and Dumbledore can get in, and even then it would require force".

Nick looked at Hobby encouragingly, and said "it's your story, Hobby, go for it. All of it, since we do trust these two gentlemen".

"What about Remus's occlumency?"

"I am a natural occlumens", said Remus. He sounded as if it was a bad thing, and Hobby realised it must be due to his lycanthropy.

He nodded at Remus, then began his tale.

"I'm going to give you a brief version of my story first, and we can fill in the details later, OK?"

Remus and Sirius nodded. Harry was not speaking, not even moving. He knew something big was happening, and he was worried they would send him to bed if he said the wrong thing, and he would miss all this.

"I was born a wizard", started Hobby. And immediately had to pause, because neither Sirius nor Remus appeared to be ready to believe it, and had stood up with noises of protest. It took the combined glares of Nick and Penny before they suspended their disbelief and settled down to listen.

"As I said, I was born a wizard. I went to Hogwarts for six years. I fought Voldemort in various forms-"

"What do you mean 'various forms'?", growled Sirius.

"Details later, Sirius", reminded Nick. Sirius growled again, a bit more softly this time, and nodded for Hobby to continue.

"By the time my seventh year started, Voldemort was fully in control, and I had to leave school to go do something essential for Voldemort to be defeated. Once I did that, I faced Voldemort for the last time. Unfortunately, he managed to kill me, instead of the other way round."

By this time Sirius and Remus were not at all sure if the whole thing was one big prank, but both Nick and Penny were looking too solemn for that.

"It turned out that that was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to defeat him, not the other way round. But the deck had been stacked so badly against me, that I had actually died six times prior to that, and each time they had sent me back to start afresh. By this time, they had learned their lesson, so they sent me back with my memories and powers intact."

" _They?_ ", asked Remus.

"I don't know much more than you may be able to guess, Remus", said Hobby.

"Anyway, I added a twist. I didn't want to go back as the wizard I was born as - even with memories and powers intact, they would have not been able to send me back to, at best, the end of my third year.

By that time, the wizard that I was, had already suffered quite a bit. A lonely, hated, existence till the Hogwarts letter came, and even after that, I had constant danger, very few friends, everyone trying to take advantage of me and my fame in every way possible. I didn't want that to happen, but they said going back as early as I wanted was not possible; I would be too young.

So I asked if I could go as someone else. During my days there I had freed an elf from the Malfoys, an elf who already hero worshipped me, and who ultimately gave his life for me. I wanted to go as him, both to honor him, as well as to spare him the many years of pain and punishments from the Malfoys."

Hobby took a few seconds to compose himself, while trying to gauge Sirius's reactions.

"Coming back as someone else would allow the real 'me', to have as normal a life as possible, and I know that was very important to me. Probably the most important thing, the biggest thing I would like to have changed."

"And this wizard was a parselmouth?", asked Remus.

"Was, and _is_ , too", said Hobby.

"And what is his name?", asked Sirius, although he had a sinking feeling he knew. Didn't Nick say Harry's welfare was uppermost in the Phantom's mind?

"Wait... before you answer that, who is the Phantom?"

Hobby merely changed into the Phantom for reply.

"And to answer your earlier question, I think you already know who I was. Making sure he is as happy as can be, and does not have to deal with _any_ of this, is very important to me."

Harry hadn't moved from his place on Penny's lap. He was just a bit too young to truly understand what was happening, but no one was shouting at anyone else, and things seemed to be cordial, if only because Sirius and Remus appeared to be almost speechless!

Sirius and Remus, for their part, were all set to ask for explanations of every one of the incidents and events which had caused them suspicion. Clearly, that was all moot now; this really answered everything. It was only the sheer impossibility of it - but the evidence was irrefutable - that shocked them.

It explained how he knew so much about Harry - his favourite foods, books he had wanted to read but was not allowed to, his state of health. It explained why his eyes flashed green when he got angry (at the idea of giving Greyback a fair fight). And many of the others - while they would bear some discussion - were no longer total mysteries.

While Sirius and Remus were mulling this over, Hobby turned to Harry. "Harry, I know you got worried about the snake speaking to you, because it's not normal. I agree it's not normal, but that just makes you special. I'd like to explain a few things about this to you tomorrow, OK?" He waited for a hesitant nod from Harry. "Meanwhile, I don't want you worrying about it, OK?"

After a while, Harry was bundled off to bed, so the adults could continue talking. Sirius asked what was, to him, the most important question. "What's the Hermione angle? Clearly she is the reason you made us buy this house, but what's so special?"

Hobby sighed. "Hermione was my best friend, or at least one of two. She has been by my side, never let me down, and frankly, without her I would have been dead several times. Case in point: when we were barely halfway through our first year, she set fire to Snape's robes because it looked like he was cursing my broom enough to make me fall off from a great height".

Hobby clearly knew how to get these two, or at least Sirius, on his side!

"One of the things I was told was that Harry was meant to be with Hermione, and I wanted to give them a head start".

"Doesn't it feel weird to you, that someone else is living your life? I mean, you're you, and Harry is a different person".

"Yes we are, and that's fine. The people who sent me back - they only care about Harry, and possibly Hermione. So do I, for obvious reasons. So, however weird it sounds, this is the method I chose to absolutely maximise Harry's happiness. Honestly, except for the Dolohov incident, I'd say I did pretty good!", he smirked.

"Besides", he continued, "now that circumstances have conspired to make me take you both into confidence, we can finish this thing off much more safely than Nick, Penny, and I could have done, because you - Sirius - are Harry's guardian. You knowing about me opens up a lot more possibilities for intervention."

Eventually, Hobby detailed his entire life to Sirius and Remus, who were suitably impressed by all his escapades. When he came to Sirius and the veil of death, Hobby was almost crying, and Sirius - God bless him - ignored all the confusing aspects of this whole day and gave him a hug.

Late in the night, when they were all talked out, they all went off to bed; they'd have to continue this tomorrow.

Hobby wondered if either of them would remember the Malfoy angle, and ask him about it, especially why he did not appear to be spending much time there lately, and especially during the past two months or so.


	28. Chapter 28: Plans are made

Chapter 28: Plans are made

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Reminder (see AN in chapter 21): responses to important questions will appear - where possible - in some subsequent chapter, worked into the text as dialog or thought. Thank you to all my reviewers, especially those who recognise their review comments addressed in the story!**

 **1988-08-01 09:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

The next morning, by the time Sirius had come down to breakfast, Hobby was waiting for them. Harry had been down already and was almost done with his breakfast, and so too were Remus, Nick, and Penny.

Remus had called in a favour, yet again, from his team (grimacing all the while, because he was already in deep "time debt" to them), and stayed back; this discussion was by no means done and he didn't want to miss the rest. Nick and Penny had been given one of the spare rooms, but Sirius suspected they had quietly apparated home for the night and apparated back in the morning. Old people were just too set in their ways, so he couldn't fault them if they indeed had done that.

Sirius nodded to Hobby. "Did you even go back to the Malfoys' last night?", he asked.

Hobby looked sheepish again. Sirius sighed and sat down. "Let me eat first; I had enough shocks last night when you looked a bit like that, and it's too early for more". Saying which, he started lathering butter and jam on some toast that Kreacher had placed in front of him. He carefully folded an omelette into a semblance of a square, put that between two slices of toast ( _jam with omelettes? Uggh..._ , thought Hobby), and proceeded to demolish that and then a couple more such sandwiches.

Hobby sat down on the nearest chair, quite unlike any house elf. It was a testament to how much Sirius had internalised last night's discussion that he didn't even blink. Or perhaps he was more focused on what shocks Hobby would be giving him today.

Eventually Sirius finished eating. Harry had once again ensconced himself in Penny's lap, going to her even without being asked to - he had somehow figured out that this was a continuation of last night, anyway.

Sirius looked at Hobby in an "OK, start" kind of way. Hobby glanced briefly at Remus, then started.

"My original objective, when I came back, was to make sure none of the death-eaters had a chance to do any of the bad things they had done earlier. Note that I was specifically **not** setting out to take revenge for all their past sins - although it was very tempting to do so. I just wanted to make sure nothing more would happen.

That was one of the reasons I chose to become Dobby - the Malfoys were the lynchpin of the death-eaters, everyone looked up to them. Malfoy was also politically very savvy and connected - without him and his money, a lot more of them would have been in Azkaban in the days after Halloween 1981. So being able to spy on them was sufficient to forewarn me of pretty much _everything_ that had happened in their world.

On that assumption, I spent the bulk of my time hanging around the Malfoys, making sure I would not miss anything of importance. I even followed him around when I thought he may be meeting some of his cronies. And I was feeling very good that, for the last two years, nothing much _had_ happened. It felt like a victory of sorts, even though it was boring as hell".

"Because Dolohov proved that assumption wrong", said Sirius darkly. "You said yesterday - in a somewhat smug manner, I might add - that except for the Dolohov incident, you did pretty good. I didn't want to say anything at that time since it was already late, but that's a big 'except'".

Hobby hung his head in shame. His "saving people thing" had never gone away, and if possible had increased because, frankly, he was capable of much more, so his expectations from himself had correspondingly increased.

Sirius realised he may have slightly overdone it. "Look, Hobby, it's not your fault. We didn't even know about you, so we should have taken our own precautions - we didn't".

Hobby shook his head. "I appreciate you saying it's not my fault, but **it IS my fault** ", he ended loudly. "Dolohov went off on his own _because_ the Malfoys had gone tame - he pretty much told me that when I interrogated him. And the Malfoys went quiet because of me", he all but wailed.

"That's certainly one way to look at it", said Remus soothingly. "But I'm not sure you could have anticipated the knock-on effect of what you did."

"But that's just it. There were other indications I missed the significance of. Dobby used to be physically punished every day; none of that happened this time. Isn't that a big hint that things had changed, and shouldn't it have forced me to try and think of what _else_ may have changed?". Hobby was clearly anguished.

Remus tried to comfort him again. "Even if you had realised it, you'd have to keep watch over most of them, which would be impossible. Any of the others could have done it, and may have done it too. If not now, at some later point in time. No... we should have warded the house, there's nothing else that could have prevented it. I'm glad that's sorted now, though I don't know what to do about the school".

Hobby brightened up a little. "Well, that won't be a problem now, since I have all the time in the world and can keep watch constantly", he said.

Nick grinned. He and Penny had been mostly silent, both now and the previous night, except to make Harry comfortable. Now he chipped in, "You'd better tell them what nearly happened to you a couple of months ago, first!"

Hobby looked at him for a second, getting a nod and a subtle head tilt towards Harry. So, not the whole thing then, at least not while Harry was there.

"Well, a couple of months ago, I was confronted by the Malfoys", he started.

"This was a couple of days after the incident with Dolohov. They started by saying they knew what I was. That scared me - the thought that they would know things that I had not - at the time - even told you, Sirius and Remus".

He paused to take a breath, and to visibly stifle a giggle.

"Turned out they thought I belonged to their hated 'Phantom'. I wondered what they would have done if I had turned into the Phantom right there!", he grinned.

"Anyway, they told me, if I was really their elf, to prove it by doing what I was ordered to do: punish myself in a most severe manner, and punish Nolly too. Which meant they had decided to reassert themselves in some way, possibly stung by Dolohov's independence or whatever. And this was their way of starting back down that path.

So that was that. Anyway, knowing that my surveillance of them was not bearing the fruit I had hoped it would - my incentive to hang around there was not that high".

"So what did you do?", asked Sirius.

"Well, my problem was what they would do to Nolly if I simply left or protected myself somehow. So I did the only thing I could do: I apparated out and came back into the next room as the Phantom, walking in behind them. They turned around and saw me, but their shock on seeing a wizard so casually apparate into their heavily warded home was enough to give me an advantage. I petrified both of them, and told them they would never lay a hand on 'my elf', or - if I had my way - even their own elf Nolly".

No one said a thing. Then Sirius spoke. "This was two months ago?", he asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yes".

"And what happened after that?"

Hobby glanced at Harry briefly. Clearly he didn't want to go into details. "They're incapacitated, but can be revived very easily".

"Draco?"

"He too. It's not painful, and it won't harm them in any permanent way".

 _So... draught of living death or something similar_ , thought Sirius and Remus.

"What about your friend Nolly?"

"I made them free Nolly first and bound him to Nick and Penny for now, though there isn't much work for him, as they already have a couple of other elves freed in similar situations in the past".

"How did you 'make them' free him?"

Hobby just stared at the ground for a few seconds, then looked up and shook his head. "That's not relevant".

Then he continued. "What I need right now is advice on how to go forward. I can't discuss all the possible options right now" - again a sidelong glance at Harry - "so you can call me when you are ready for that".

"Wait", said Sirius. He turned to Harry, and looked at him solemnly. Harry had caught most of Hobby's hints, and seemed to be resigned to the fact that he would be asked to leave the room - no one said he was stupid! So, without waiting for Sirius to say something, he said "May I go to Hermione's?"

Sirius and Remus beamed at him, said yes, and Harry scampered off, after giving Penny and Nick a quick hug.

* * *

They broke for some tea, and to lighten the atmosphere a bit before they dug in again. Penny took Sirius and Remus aside briefly and unobtrusively, and quickly said "one thing you both do not know is that the old Harry, and this Hobby, suffers from self-esteem issues. He blames himself for a lot more than he should. Keep that in mind when talking to him". They nodded, having had a taste of that today.

When they sat back down at the table, Hobby continued.

"I could simply have eliminated all the confirmed death-eaters and strong sympathisers. Veritaserum is easy to make" - a thankful glance at Nick - "so there would be no doubts. And I would not have to kill them either - just obliviate them back to a one-year old, including all knowledge of magic, then turn them loose in a non-English speaking part of the muggle world - say somewhere in the jungles of Africa perhaps. Or turn them into rats and keep them in some dungeon forever - rats are easy to feed and contain".

"What stopped you from doing that?", asked Sirius.

"What stopped me is plausible deniability for Harry. My identity is a potential problem. Should someone who knows the right spells, and has the right potions, capture me, the whole thing could boomerang on the one person I want to protect above all - because Harry Potter, is Harry Potter".

"But that's illogical - he's just a child", protested Remus.

"In my second year, when people found out I could speak to snakes, do you know how many people thought I was a 'seriously dark wizard'?" Hobby paused, and a brief smile lit his face, as that phrase recalled to his mind what the twins had done at that time. _Seriously dark wizard coming through, make way_ , he reminisced.

"They were willing to believe I would kill muggleborns, despite my mother being one, and one of my two best friends being one. Wizards are not known for being logical. Add to that how impossible it is to survive the killing curse, and sometimes I can't even blame them!"

"So, we need to eliminate them, but in such a way that nothing touches Harry, or can ever touch him even remotely", said Sirius. "Well, I could simply announce that after the Dolohov incident, I am proactively taking steps to protect my godson from any other such people, and demand that everyone who has the dark mark be questioned".

"Amelia would agree with you in her heart, but she can't actually allow that", said Penny. "She can only do that with some probable cause or as a part of some investigation, and that only on specific individuals, not 'everyone who has the dark mark'".

Nick had an even more fundamental point. "Even if she allowed you to do that, Harry may still be targeted, since he is clearly the focus of your action. Indirect blame is not a lot better than direct blame, you know".

Sirius nodded. They'd have to think of something else, then he remembered something he had wanted to ask yesterday, but didn't want to in front of Harry.

"Hobby, how much of a hand did you have in some of the other deaths and disappearances?"

"Unprovoked? Only Bellatrix and Greyback. The others - the Lestrange brothers and Crouch junior - had already done something recently to deserve it. Even Macnair".

"That was you?", gasped Remus. He'd read about it of course, since he had been keeping up with the news.

Hobby nodded. He wasn't interested in going into details though. "And Rookwood was the Carrows, and one of them is dead and the other is in Azkaban".

"More of the famous Hobby charm and persuasion?", joked Remus.

"Oh no, the Carrows never met me. It was Flint senior who came to their house and incited them to kill Rookwood".

"Hmm, I wonder what reason he gave", mused Sirius, half to himself.

"I think they were led to believe that Rookwood's unspeakable oath took priority over his duty to their Lord", Hobby said blandly.

"And how would you know that?"

Hobby just smirked. Sirius and Remus were speechless; in any case, another exclamation of "what, that was you?" would be repetitive now.

There was a brief lull in the conversation, as the two marauders came to terms with what had happened already.

"What about Umbridge?", said Sirius suddenly.

"You said 'deaths and disappearances'", Hobby smirked again. "And we should get back to the topic - you can help me reminisce about all this later", he mock scolded them.

"Well, it would seem to me that the Rookwood type of trick is what you need. Make each of them fall to another of their own, while we stay completely behind the scenes."

"That's easy enough. But it's so boring to simply say it like that".

"Boring is good; keeps you alive", muttered Remus.

"Look, I need to decide what to do to the Malfoys first, then Avery and Mulciber. Regardless of what happens, I don't think I will be doing much to Crabbe and Goyle unless they suddenly become independent thinkers and do something to piss me off - those two have always been just muscle, and I'm not even sure if they knew what they were doing most of the time.

That leaves a few others but let's deal with them later. Malfoys first".

"How did you 'make them' free Nolly". Sirius came back to the question he had asked just before they had decided to send Harry out of the room.

"I dosed them with an imperius potion".

"I thought only Dumbledore and Snape knew how to brew that; in fact I seem to recall Snape claiming-" - he tailed off, looking at Hobby's smirk. Hobby winked at him, and asked "Who did Dumbledore learn it all from, Sirius?"

Sirius fell over laughing with joy. Death-eaters were serious business, but getting back at Snape had its own charm, and his godson from a past life (or a different life) had done that masterfully, of course with help from Nick and Penny. This was awesome!

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was being grilled by Hermione, who wanted to know what had happened in the evening, because she knew Nick and Penny were coming, or at least should have been coming, and she knew Sirius was upset about the snake incident.

Harry narrated as much of what had transpired as he remembered. Some of the conversation had gone quite over his head, which always makes remembering something a lot more difficult. He got most of it, with a few exceptions; for example, he did not really know much about this Phantom or his significance, except that he was supposed to be Hobby's master, and then suddenly it turned out he wasn't, he and Hobby were the same person.

Hermione thought about what he had said. It seemed too incredible to believe, but then, she was apparently a witch, which was also incredible in some way, so who knew what the limits of credibility were in this world?

She and Harry pieced together a summary: Hobby was actually a wizard who had suffered a lot and had died and had then come back to life and back in time as an elf (or perhaps a half-elf, half-wizard) in order to help the wizard have a better deal in life.

When you put it like that, even someone of Crabbe's and Goyle's intelligence could have figured out who that wizard was, and Harry and Hermione realised this very quickly. Harry had been reasonably sure of it already; discussing it with Hermione merely confirmed it for him.

It was interesting that, having no pre-conceived notions of what an elf was, or what a wizard was, and so on, these two kids could accept that summary more readily than Sirius and Remus would have, if it had been presented to them without all the accompanying evidence!

For Hermione, something else was also clear. She did not know if Harry had also come to the same conclusion, and did not want to ask, but it was clear that she, herself, had played a big part in the elf-man's former life. What precisely that was, and how much of it would still happen, she did not know, but she knew - somehow - that she and Harry were destined to be far more than what the phrase "best friends" could ever convey. She already had some idea of Harry's apparent importance in this new world of hers, and she was sure she would be by his side, whatever that meant, for a good long time.

* * *

Sirius had recovered from his laughing fit, and he became serious again, deciding to ask another question that had been bugging him.

"Hobby, why did you turn some of them into rats? What's the rationale behind that?"

"Sirius, I think that is about the worst punishment - short of the kind of torture I put Dolohov through - that is possible for a pure blood bigot. Don't forget that the spell I used allows their _human_ consciousness to exist inside the animal, but none of the physical abilities, and no magic either. They know they are essentially dead to the world, they have no way to communicate with anyone, they have a reasonable sense for time so they know as the weeks, months, and years, pass. They have their memories of their 'glorious' life before this. I also plan to bring them selected copies of the Prophet from time to time, to increase their pain - oh yes they can read.

This is as bad as it gets for anyone, short of having dementors around", he concluded.

"Hmm, I would have loved a spot of torture on those animals, like they did to so many during the last war, but I guess turning them into animals, while retaining their minds, is pretty good."

"It's like compound interest, Sirius - the pain increases in strength over time. I fully expect some of them to go mad within a few years, and completely forget who they were.

And the beauty of it is, if I am ever caught and forced to reveal what I have done, they are hostages. Only I can bring them back. Well, I, or Harry, or Voldemort I guess but those two don't know the password, and Voldemort especially would never be able to guess what the password is", he smirked.

"What is it?"

"It's an extremely insulting phrase; his ego would never let him think like me so his guesses won't be anywhere close enough to the actual password!"

They all had a good laugh. Sirius pouted a bit at not being told what the password was, but recognised that some secrets were best kept really close.

"OK, well, back to the matter at hand. I think you should continue to use that potion, and make him eliminate Avery and Mulciber. In the middle of the atrium in the Ministry of Magic. That should be a good start."

"What would be his reason? And under veritaserum it will come out that he is innocent anyway".

"Well, he will be in a bind. If he accepts veritaserum, he'll have made Amelia's dream come true - she's been waiting for a legitimate chance to do that for years now. If he doesn't, he has no real defense - with Snape and Dumbledore apparently the only ones who can brew that potion, he can't use that excuse. Oh wait, he can blame Dumbledore", Sirius cackled with glee.

Hobby did not like where this was heading. "At some point in the future, someone will remember that there is a third wizard - Nicholas Flamel - who could have done this also. What happens then? I don't want Nick to catch hell for my doings!"

"My dear boy", said Nick with an amused smile. "You said it yourself: wizards are illogical. It's 'out of sight, out of mind' with them, so first they'd have to remember that Penny and I exist. Then they'd have to catch me first - do you know most of them think we live in France? Then they'd have to give me something that actually works on me. I may have taught Dumbledore everything _he_ knows, but I didn't teach him everything _I_ know, however cliched a boast that is!"

Hobby stared at him. "Veritaserum won't work on you?"

"Not if I don't want it to", smirked Nick.

"What about flushing regimens and quarantines?"

"Don't worry about it", said Nick.

"Magical oaths?"

"Aah that would be an issue. I don't have any way to get around those, not without a lot of word-smithing, which often gets caught. But really, the ministry doesn't use those much - they always seem to rely on the truth potion, so don't worry about it!"

Hobby was somewhat appeased, but he still decided he would not overuse this. Only on Malfoy; the rest would go some other way.

"So, how and when? And what about Narcissa? She's the worst of them, it would seem - though I had no inkling of this from my past life", said Hobby.

Sirius, with a thoughtful expression on his face, held up a hand. He asked Nick and Penny a lot of questions about the imperius potion, and especially about interactions with other potions or spells.

Then he laid down the plan as he saw it. It was different from his impulsive idea to do something in the atrium of the ministry, and Remus was smiling broadly by the time his marauder friend had finished detailing it.

* * *

 **Omake**

"Boring is good; keeps you alive", muttered Remus.

"Sure. But imagine this: someone sits down to write about us a decade or three later. Would they enjoy writing it? Would they have any readers if I'd simply gone out on the first day and just killed them all, and closed with a drumroll and a _that's all, folks_?"

Remus looked at him strangely, reflecting that he probably would never understand how a house-elf's mind worked.

Hobby shrugged. He had no idea what put that crazy thought into his head anyway, so he just moved on.


	29. Chapter 29: All bets are off

Chapter 29: All bets are off

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Apologies for the delay - mostly due to work and travel (if I could find a way to write during meetings this fic would have been done by now!) Also, for the record, I'm not very happy with this chapter so if you feel let down, join the club!**

 **1988-08-02 11:00 UTC, Malfoy Manor**

Lucius Malfoy came to in his bedroom, with a woozy feeling in his head - one that nevertheless did nothing to take away from the strong sense of foreboding he could also feel.

He looked around, and saw his wife next to him, pretty much in the same shape. "Weren't we in the dining room just now?", she asked groggily.

Lucius nodded, and was about to say something when both were hit by a petrifying curse. Anger at this new insult vied with the confusion both were already feeling, and somehow both knew some point of no return had been reached. Narcissa, usually the calmer of the two, was able to internally relax faster, though because of the curse one could not tell anyway.

The Phantom walked into their field of view, and with slow, deliberate (and quite unnecessary, though the Malfoys were not to know that) movements of his wand he freed them above their shoulders so they could speak.

"Yes, yes, you were in your dining room earlier, but I would not call that 'just now'. That was over two months ago", said the Phantom.

Lucius was apoplectic. Narcissa thought he would have a stroke, such was his anger and the redness of his face. What with the rest of his body being petrified, the effect was much more pronounced than one might imagine.

" **How DARE you?** ", he shouted. "Even Bones would not allow that kind of thing to happen to someone, when she hears of it, she will order you arrested immediately".

The Phantom looked at him calmly, waiting for him to simmer down. Finally, he turned to Narcissa. "Any similarly pointless, useless, meaningless, rants from you?"

"No. But really, isn't that a bit too much to take out of our lives, and without even telling us why?"

The Phantom pretended to think it over. In reality, the answer was begging to be thrown in their face. "I have as much respect for you, your time, and whatever else you value, as your husband has for the muggle children and adults he used to kidnap before I stopped you lot. Come to think of it, about as much value for your _life_ too, though I will probably torture you only mentally, not physically."

Narcissa caught on immediately. "Where is my son?"

"Well, he's not being raped by a muggle, if that's what you're worried about. I've actually got him in stasis, just like you two were for the last few weeks, and have not woken him up yet. I'm actually torn between leaving him that way, and waking him up and making him listen to both of you confess your many sins, but there are two problems with that".

Despite being in the state she was, Narcissa imperiously raised an eyebrow. _Wow, nasty bitch, but what class!_ , thought Hobby.

"The first problem is that he might not think of your actions as bad, which means you have already succeeded in converting him into a death-eater wannabe", said the Phantom. "The second problem is that regardless of what happens, it would become necessary to have him watch me hand out your punishments, and I cannot have that."

"What are you going to do to him then?"

"No idea. What do you recommend, knowing that it has to be something that will absolutely ensure he will _never_ turn out like you or your husband?"

Narcissa thought for a long moment. If she were honest with herself, she had started to sense her last days were here, one way or another. She intended to go with dignity, never realising that her husband had never allowed even a fraction of such dignity to accompany the many muggles he had murdered over the past few years.

"I would like him to be raised by my sister Andy".

"And why should your sister take in a wannabe death-eater who will no doubt call her husband a mudblood and her a blood-traitor or whatever?"

"You will need to obliviate him completely of all knowledge of us, all our friends, and all their children", said Narcissa.

"What are you saying, Cissy", shouted Lucius. "Why should he-"

"Be quiet, Lucius. This is the only way Draco will survive, don't you see", she said quietly.

There was a knock at the front door, and the Phantom moved off to answer the door, turning into Hobby once outside their field of view. Taking the opportunity, Narcissa hissed at her husband. "Someone is coming, and it can only be one of our friends. Your voice is louder than mine, so as soon as you hear the door open, start shouting for help. Hopefully at least one of them is able to get away from this Phantom and raise the alarm on our behalf."

Lucius nodded.

Meanwhile, Hobby opened the door to see Avery and Mulciber waiting at the doorstep. _Couldn't have done better if I'd planned it myself_ , he thought gleefully.

Quietly he raised wards to prevent these two escaping. All he needed now was Nott, to complete the picture.

"Yes, what do you want?", asked Dobby - for that is what he was, to these two men. Behind him he could hear Lucius screaming something, but it was a little muffled because the master bedroom was a tad too far away, and also there were several closed doors in between.

They were taken aback, both by the unusual screaming sounds (very unseemly in a proper pureblood house to have people make such noises, except in a properly silenced dungeon of course!), but even more by the behaviour of the elf.

"Punish yourself, you little elf-bastard", sneered Avery.

Hobby shrugged, which made the two men even madder. "I don't feel like it. I say again, what do you want? The master and mistress of the house are not available to entertain visitors right now, but I can take a message".

Mulciber drew his wand in order to curse this unusually self-possessed elf - some wizards do not take unusual situations well at all.

Hobby summoned his wand, then for good measure summoned Avery's wand also, and with a wave of his hand locked the front door behind them so they could not escape. He then walked into the small receiving room, just off to the left as you enter. The two men rushed in behind him, but he was not to be seen.

A cold voice behind them made them turn around. "Look what the cat dragged in", said the Phantom jovially. Sadly, the two death eaters could not share in the joy; they had no illusions about being able to face him, even together, even if both of them had their wands.

"How did you get in here", said Avery, a lot more bravely than he felt.

The Phantom shrugged. "I have friends in low places", he said. Then he petrified both of them and propelled them into the drawing room, sitting them down in one of the end tables. He then went back to the bedroom in which Lucius and Narcissa were waiting.

"As you rightly guessed, Narcissa, today is pretty much your last day on earth. Or at least your last day of having some sort of free thought in your minds. Enjoy the rest of your life in Azkaban".

With that cryptic comment, he dosed them both with the liquid imperius.

He put a silencing spell around Narcissa, and gave Lucius his instructions. "You, Lucius, will imperius Narcissa into killing Avery, who is currently waiting in the drawing room. At the same time, you will kill Mulciber, who is waiting with him".

He then took off the spell around Narcissa, put one around Lucius, and gave Narcissa almost identical instructions, except with Avery and Mulciber switched.

* * *

Nott was sitting in his dining room, having just finished a somewhat late breakfast, and was contemplating what he should do. Life was a bit boring now, under the thumb of the bloody Phantom, but for the past couple of months it was even worse - his friends the Malfoys appeared to have disappeared without a word, and only the assurance of his house-elf that they were fine and were in contact with him regularly, gave him any comfort.

While he was thinking about Lucius, the same elf - called Dobby, if he remembered correctly - popped in and bowed low. "My master begs your company for an urgent meeting right away Sir", he said politely, then popped off before Nott could respond. He knew Nott would be curious enough to follow.

* * *

Nott flooed into the Malfoy residence a few minutes after. Dusting off the soot from his clothes, he was surprised to find no one in the receiving room - unusual for a pureblood home. But he knew his way around, so he followed the sounds of voices to the drawing room.

Just as he walked in, he heard Lucius shout out the killing curse and kill a wide-eyed, petrified, Mulciber. Simultaneously, Narcissa killed an equally shocked and scared Avery.

Then they both turned their wand on him. He knew he would never get the drop on _both_ of them, but he'd be damned if he went out without a fight. Only the extreme shock at this completely uncharacteristic behaviour had slowed him down a little. He quickly fired off an exploding hex at Narcissa - as the perceived weaker of the two (if only he knew!), and turned his wand towards Lucius, as quickly firing off another toward him.

Lucius returned fire, though, like his two spells missed them, Lucius's spell missed him by a hair. He attempted to return fire, but was caught by a stunner from Narcissa.

* * *

 **1988-08-02 19:00 UTC, DMLE office**

Nott had come to in a dark corner of Knockturn Alley. He had no idea how or when he had come to be there, but he believed that both Lucius and Narcissa had wanted something from him before they would have killed him, and he had somehow escaped. He had no real clear idea how, and only vague recollections of a short and quick battle between himself and the powerful couple.

His statement was unusual enough to make anyone wonder at his sanity though. According to him, the Malfoy's elf had conveyed his master's request to visit him at his manor, and when he acquiesced, he found himself walking into two clean kills, his host and hostess having just disposed of two of their oldest friends - Avery and Mulciber.

Kingsley had gone home more than an hour or two before, but the desk sergeant on duty did not feel anyone less than him could do justice to the seriousness of this matter. Thus a relaxed, mellow, Kingsley was called back to the Ministry, and found himself listening to the same surprising, or rather shocking, tale.

* * *

 **1988-08-03 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot meeting room**

It had been a good couple of years since the Wizengamot had seen this kind of excitement - many could recall the days of early 1986 when there seemed to be one court case after another. Other than the Potter kidnapping, nothing much had happened after that.

This time there were two accused on the floor. Arresting them had gone a lot better than Kingsley had hoped. He had gone in "mob-handed" as they say, and, no doubt due to the shock of seeing so many aurors (or any at all, since they had probably not realised Nott had escaped their dungeon), their resistance had been careless, not a single spell hitting him or his men.

(No one would realise that, other than the two killing curses, none of the other curses sent by any of these three - the Malfoys and Nott - had connected with their intended target. And of course by that time in the evening, the liquid imperius had not only completely vanished from their bodies, Hobby had also obliviated them of the whole business of the past two months, and the Phantom's involvement!)

The Malfoys had a lawyer, one Asmodius Lafitte. But he was a pretty ineffectual one - mainly retained to fill in the paper work, go around filing things, etc., rather than actually having a say in how any court cases they were involved in were to be conducted. Lucius Malfoy would generally conduct his own affairs, and would not countenance any interference or advice even from his own lawyer. This would prove to be their undoing here, because they were now effectively without a lawyer.

They were both put on the stand simultaneously, though questioning was sequential. Minister Bones indicated that Narcissa should go first.

Three drops of veritaserum were dropped on her tongue, and it was made sure that she swallowed.

"What is your name?" asked Kingsley.

"Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy".

"Why did you kill Lord Avery?"

"I was imperiused".

 _Here we go again_ , thought Amelia. "Do they still expect that excuse to wash, now that Fudge is gone?", she asked the court rhetorically. But then, Narcissa was under veritaserum, so clearly this was different from the old days, when they had claimed the same but also vigorously resisted the potion.

"Do you know who imperiused you?"

"Yes".

"Who?"

"Lucius Abraxus Malfoy".

This was a truly shocking development. No one had realised Lucius had regressed that badly. Sirius Black managed to put upon his face the same kind of shocked expression that he saw on his peers around the room, and if there was a trace of a little glee that someone later asked him about, he would say it was because he truly hated Lucius and was happy to see him implicated under the truth potion.

Kingsley waited patiently for the hubbub to die down.

"Why would your husband order you to kill one of his oldest friends?"

"I do not know".

At this point Kingsley turned to the bench. "Madam Chief Witch, I would like to start questioning Lord Malfoy also, to better get an idea of what is going on".

"Please proceed", said Augusta Longbottom.

Kingsley followed the same steps with Lucius Malfoy. After the preliminary questions, Kingsley asked one of the two important questions for him. "Why did you kill your old friend Mulciber?"

"I was under the imperius".

"Who imperiused you?", asked Kingsley. He, as well as Madam Bones and a few others in court, had a sinking feeling they knew where this was going.

"Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy".

That brought down the house.

* * *

It took a good ten minutes and multiple cannon-blast charms before order was restored.

"Minister Bones", said the Chief Witch, "please request the services of specialists on the imperius from both St Mungo's as well as from the Department of Mysteries. We will meet back in one hour and thirty minutes", she banged her gavel.

* * *

 **1988-08-03 10:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot meeting room**

When court resumed, the Chief Witch addressed the three specialists - two healers and one unspeakable.

"Healer Ustinov and Healer Dali, I understand you both specialise in the imperius curse, its effects, its treatment, and so on. Is that correct?"

"Yes Madam Chief Witch", said Henden Ustinov, while his colleague nodded.

She then turned to the unspeakable. Of course, these people never provided names. "And you, Unspeakable 'Gray', you also have made a special study of this curse?"

"Yes Madam Chief Witch", said an unexpectedly pleasant voice.

"Can we ask what prompted your research, and if any of the results can be shared, at a high level of course?"

"We started this research when so many fine, upstanding, citizens suffered under it during the last war", said the man. Very few in the court missed the obvious sarcasm in his tone. He waited for Madam Longbottom to smile briefly. "Our results, of course, showed that most of the people who claimed it were not actually under it."

"How did you determine that?"

"I am sorry I cannot say".

Minister Bones turned to the court clerk, upon a nod from Madam Longbottom. "Please re-read from the court record for the benefit of our three consultants", she said.

When the court clerk had finished, the three experts went into a huddle for a good fifteen minutes. It appeared the healers knew the unspeakable ( _there must be a story there_ , thought Madam Bones), because their discussion looked very much like that of old friends.

Eventually they came to a decision, and approached the bench.

"Have you come to a conclusion?", asked Madam Longbottom.

"Yes Madam Chief Witch", said the unspeakable. "All three of us are agreed that two people **cannot** cross-imperius each other. It would not work."

"What precisely does that mean? Can you give us some more details, say step-by-step?", asked Minister Bones.

"Specifically, the second one would be impossible to cast as long as the first one was active".

"And yet", said Madam Longbottom, "the truth serum says they did both cast on each other. Have we then reached the boundaries of our knowledge of how this works?"

The three experts looked at each other again. The youngest (but not by much), Myra Dali, said something, and the other two sat back, considering it. Slowly, they nodded.

Again, the unspeakable spoke. "There is one possible way, we think, though we may have to carry out some experiments to confirm. That would be if both cast simultaneously, in a planned and precisely timed manner, at each other".

"I see. That would mean pre-meditation, would it not?"

"Indeed. The two spells have to hit at _precisely_ the same time - so close that it is impossible without practicing to get the timing right, because if there's even a few milliseconds difference, the curse that was cast first would be the only one effectively in place. They'd have to get the difference down to less than a third of a person's reaction time - say two milliseconds".

"Which _definitely_ meant they had planned it, though what they hoped to achieve was not clear", said Minister Bones.

Myra Dali spoke up. "Maybe they were trying to use their old 'I was under the imperius' excuse, but in a way that would hold up under truth serum?"

Minister Bones had an eager look about her. "Well if that is what they were hoping, that is what we shall provide", she said. "I've been waiting _years_ to get Lord Malfoy under veritaserum, so it's time we asked some really important questions".

The lawyer appeared to wake up. "Objection, Madam Chief Witch!", he said grandiosely. "Questions must be limited to what happened yesterday".

"Objection overruled; the law does not require any such limitations to be placed, especially when it is not at all clear what the motivations were for what happened yesterday. As well, the events of yesterday bear a distrubing similarity to what used to happen during the worst days of the war so this line of questioning is definitely relevant", said Madam Longbottom.

Subsequent questioning sealed the fate of Lucius Malfoy. No doubt it was a "fishing expedition" by Madam Bones, and it did not really answer any questions about what had happened yesterday, but a lot of information did come out. Just the number of wizarding folk he had had murdered over the years was staggering, and even without going into his muggle-baiting, there were calls to have him thrown into the veil or have him kissed. They finally ruled that he should be thrown into the veil, and that order was carried out that very evening.

However, nothing similar could be found for Narcissa. Questioning turned out to be very tricky, because her involvement appeared to have been much more circumspect, with a lot more leeway for creatively interpreting and answering questions. Veritaserum questioning had to be rather precise, and worked best when you already knew what to ask - speculative questioning would lead nowhere.

As a result, she was sentenced to a mere three years in Azkaban, because it was deemed that her husband and lord had coerced her into this crazy course of action, since she had never killed anyone before.

Draco was put in an orphanage because no one wanted him. Informally, Sirius did his duty and asked Andromeda, but she had no wish to take on the spawn of her hated brother-in-law. In any case, it would only be for three years, then his mother would be out.

The Malfoy wealth was claimed back by Sirius under some marriage contract related law. This was not helped by the fact that Lucius was an only child, and so were both his parents, so there literally were no other claimants. Sirius left Draco and Narcissa a decent but not generous allowance that would see him through Hogwarts, but not much more than that. Less if they indulged, but that would be their problem. He also had other plans for when she got out.


	30. Chapter 30: Getting away with murder

Chapter 30: Getting away with murder

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** Apologies once again for the delay, but I'm not very hopeful this will improve, due to work life balance tilting the wrong way :-(

 **1988-08-08 11:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Hobby, Sirius, and Remus tried to have a quick discussion about what their next steps should be, but it soon became clear that they would not reach any kind of consensus. Sirius and Hobby were on the "extreme prejudice" side, while Remus advocated only being reactive. The discussion tailed off without any conclusion, and so, by unspoken agreement, they decided to postpone the debate for a few days, to allow things to settle down - both in the outside world as well as within their own minds. After all, Lucius Malfoy being sent through the veil was a landmark event in their country's magical future, whichever way you looked at it, and would likely have an affect on not just politics, but on many businesses as well, considering how much influence and side deals Malfoy was presumed to have brokered or arranged.

And so it was that a few days later found the extended family once again in a "council of war" of sorts. The kids weren't present, nor were they wanted - the discussion was not going to be at a child-friendly level at all. And of course, they wanted Nick and Penny's opinions, as the "elders" of their little group (or indeed any group which they would be part of!)

Hobby led off the discussion. "Now that Lucius is out of the picture, we need to figure out how we deal with the others. I absolutely, positively, want this whole thing put to rest well before Harry and Hermione go to Hogwarts. Every single potential death-eater must be neutralised by then".

"Nick, Penny, what we are differing on is how far we go to neutralise them", said Remus. "Hobby and Sirius think they all need to be _eliminated_ , while I think most of them are already pretty neutralised and only some of them need some additional safeguards".

Before Nick and Penny could respond, Sirius interjected. "We don't want them killed. Hobby's got four of them turned into rats with a parseltongue password that only he knows; this is almost good enough, for me. The problem is, however, that even if only in theory, this _can_ be reversed. A resurrected Voldemort, some serious legilimancy on a captured and weakened Hobby, and they're out. Is that easy? No. Is it _possible_. **Hell yes!** And that is what I don't like."

Nick looked at Penny. "Do we know of any obscure method to strip people of their magic permanently, irreversibly? I can't think of one offhand".

Penny shook her head. "No, neither can I. The only truly permanent solution is killing them. I assume we're not considering that...?"

"We're not considering doing that ourselves, though we're not averse to having them do it to each other. Sorta like Avery and Mulciber, but of course the details and trivia would have to be different."

"Speak for yourself, Padfoot", said Remus. "I am not in favour of even that. We need a way to contain them without having to actually kill them, directly or indirectly".

Sirius looked at him long and hard. "Are you OK with turning them into rats, and that parseltongue password thing?"

"Yes".

" **Then what's the bloody difference?** , roared Sirius. "They're dead in every way that matters except for Gringotts records. Is there a reason those would affect us?"

"No there isn't. It would only affect their heirs, and their ability to take certain decisions that only the head of house can. And unlike the Longbottoms, where it is well-known they are incapacitated, and therefore Augusta could be regent for Neville, nothing will be known here so they will stew".

"Isn't there some limit, like if they don't turn up for a certain number of years they are deemed to have died?"

"Too logical for wizards", smirked Remus.

Penny had been thinking about this, and had an idea. "I am pretty sure we can modify any spell - even a parseltongue one - to have a minimum time-limit before _anyone_ can undo it. Set a minimum time of 150 years and they'll die naturally by then".

Sirius did not like where this was going. "Wait wait wait... why is _that_ any different from killing them right now? In fact, Remus, you haven't explained why you are against killing them right now. Is it morality or something else?"

"Morality is only part of the story. What if there's a Sirius in there, unjustly blamed for something he did not do?"

"Well, DUH, we'd interrogate them with veritaserum to make absolutely sure, wouldn't we?"

"Like the Malfoys were interrogated in the court?", snarked Remus.

Sirius was almost boiling by now. He could somewhat understand where Remus was coming from, but not quite.

"Look Remus, what we did to the Malfoys is not easy for someone to do. And even if they did, why would they do it to their own? The only ones who could do it is us; without Nick's imperius potion we couldn't have done anything to Lucius and Narcissa, and we know that won't repeat without our knowledge and consent."

"Well, what would happen if someone managed to steal Nick's stock?"

"That potion doesn't have a long shelf life, Remus; in a couple of weeks more my stock, such as it is, would be useless. I just won't make any more", said Nick.

"OK, continuing to play devil's advocate here, what if someone else creates that potion. Dumbledore can, we know that. What if he decides he doesn't like us and decides to dose one of them with the potion to go after _us_. Is that person guilty? How will you find out it even happened? The veritaserum questioning in Malfoy's case did not reveal it, so how would you know?"

Sirius gave Remus a withering look. "If Dumbledore ever did anything against the _real_ bad guys, we would not be in this pickle. He'll probably do it to you or me before he does it to someone like Nott", he growled.

* * *

The discussion went on like this for quite a while, neither side budging, and both essentially repeating the same arguments. It seemed as if they were no longer listening to each other - very unusual for friends, but perhaps the topic was serious enough to cause dissension even in such friends.

Finally Penny had had it with these three. She had been sitting quietly, nursing a cup of tea (dutifully refilled by Kreacher as needed), and when she suddenly got up, the others noticed and looked at her.

She looked annoyed, bordering on angry. "I think you should all do what Hobby says. He has lived through the alternative, none of the rest of us have. If he says someone is dangerous left alive, then he should not be left alive. If the magic stripping ritual did not require the target to agree to it..." and here she stopped, with a faraway look in her eyes.

The others knew not to disturb her. _An older - much older - version of Hermione_ , thought Hobby.

Finally her faraway, thoughtful, look changed to a smirk.

"Hobby, what exactly happened to the Flint boy?"

"Well, his torturers thought they were torturing a muggle-born girl, then somehow got the idea that _her_ accidental magic caused their problems, so they forced her ... to ... accept the magic stripping ritual!" Hobby paused a bit toward the end, then his voice rose happily in the last few words.

"Yes! It turns out that the 'must be voluntary' aspect is not as much of a problem as we have always been thinking", mused Nick.

Sirius had a question. "How come you two didn't know this? I'd have thought you knew all - God knows you've had enough time!", he teased.

Nick grinned back. "We're alive today because we decided long ago, if a full year goes by without either of us learning something new about the world of magic, we'd destroy our stone and allow our stocked potion to run out. Looks like we're all set for another year at least!"

"And to be fair, we never really experimented with or researched on stripping magic from people - it hardly ever came up, actually", said Penny.

"But that still presents a situation: how do you force someone to accept the ritual? We didn't force the Flint boy; they did", said Sirius.

"Can we use the same trick perhaps? Transform someone on their side into someone on our side, and have them be 'captured' or whatever?", said Remus.

"Won't work. Or at least, won't work beyond the first episode", said Hobby. "I still think the only way is to eliminate them, and the only thing stopping _me_ from doing it is what I said earlier about the Harry Potter identity and causing Harry even the barest hint of trouble".

Before anyone else could say anything, he continued. "And that goes for you two as well! Look...", he straightened up and spoke slowly and seriously, "as Penny said, I am the one who has lived through the hell. I am the one who saw the muggleborn commission round up and kill hundreds, thousands maybe, or muggleborns. And that reminds me, we need to totally eliminate Umbitch and Fudge - Umbitch is the only one other than Bellatrix and Greyback for whom I would be OK with cold-blooded murder; she's had _that many_ people killed.

Anyway, back to my rant. The only thing stopping me is the aspect of someone blaming Harry for all this, but that can only happen if they catch me, hit me with the right spells, and ask me the right questions. That's a long shot - even longer than a resurrected Voldemort legilimencing me for the rats' password. So, if we can't find some way of eliminating them, or we can't even come to an agreement, I'll do it all myself, and disappear. Permanently".

"What do you mean 'permanently'", asked Remus.

Hobby did not respond, but the look on Penny's face was enough to scare Remus.

She spoke up. "Hobby, there's no need for you to do that. Worst comes to worst, Nick and I do what's needed, openly and without hiding our identities, and disappear. We get new identities; you don't think we've always lived under these names or these forms do you? Six hundred years would have been pretty boring!", she laughed.

"While I appreciate the offer, Penny, I must decline. I will always need your help and advice, but the actual tasks are mine", said Hobby. "I can't simply fob them off on you, or even these two".

"But we love Harry just as much as you!"

"Yes, and that is why if you do it, it could easily backfire on him".

"But you're Harry too, so we love you just as much", said Remus.

Harry smiled gently at Remus and said "yet another reason to do this without any hint of our involvement".

If he was expecting Remus to say something like "but why do it at all?", he was disappointed. Penny's rant earlier appeared to have done its job.

"I think I have an idea; we will need to lay some groundwork first", said Hobby. "Nick, Penny, how soon can you get about twenty vials of veritaserum ready?"

"A day or two at most, Hobby", said Nick. "We probably have a few ready to hand, but not so many".

"That's more than enough time. We just want to be one hundred percent sure - think of it like a double check on my memories if you will. Now, we need a bit of misinformation. Let's meet back in a few days and we'll chalk out what to do. I also need to tell you about the horcruxes; there are three, possibly four more to be destroyed. Two are easy, one is going to be very hard, and the last I'm not sure if it is even a horcrux at this point; Riddle may have made it after he was resurrected, for all I know".

Sirius and Remus had already been briefed about the whole horcrux thing, though neither of them had been told about Harry's scar possibly containing one. Nick was trying to find out how to handle that - Hobby was happy to leave that to him.

* * *

 **1988-08-09 08:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Sirius picked up the Daily Prophet and grinned at one of the headlines. _So this is what the little bugger meant by 'little bit of misinformation'_ , he thought.

 **Internecine feuds among conservative purebloods?** _by Rita Skeeter, Staff Reporter_

 _Ever since Lucius Malfoy was found to have murdered his old friend Lord Mulciber, and simultaneously imperiused his wife into murdering Lord Avery, there have been rumblings among the old guard._

 _Powerful purebloods from old families, who have been friends for generations, and who were rumoured - but not proven - to be working for the dark lord, are now believed to have had a serious falling out._

 _It is now believed that Lord Malfoy - very recently confirmed as a death eater who had lied and bribed his way around the trials that happened after Halloween 1981 - had been making a play for the role of leader of the former death eaters._

 _It is also believed that that there are many more death eaters who had escaped Azkaban in a similar manner to Malfoy, and that even those death eaters who had been "pardoned" in early 1986 were also actually death eaters, and the pardon should not have happened. (And indeed, all of their cases should have been re-opened after Fudge's penchant for accepting bribes was revealed, which never happened.)_

 _Meanwhile, four pureblood former friends of Lord Malfoy who, it was thought, had gone into hiding when the boy-who-lived was kidnappped, are now reported officially missing. Misters Rowle, Selvin, Travers and Yaxley have not been seen by any of their friends and casual acquaintanes ever since that time, and Lord Malfoy is the prime suspect._

 _Unfortunately, no one thought to ask him about these four when he was questioned, and now he is beyond questioning._

 _At the end of the day, this raises some important questions for our society. Firstly, how many more such wolves are hiding in sheeps clothing (or rather, in mink coats!). Secondly, what are their plans? With their leader - the dark lord - dead and gone, how far do they intend to go down that path again?_

 _Malfoy was - even before his failed attempt at solidifying his position by murdering two of his close friends - the unofficial leader anyway. It is ironic that he would have been in a better position to do that if he had_ _ **not**_ _killed Avery and Mulciber._

 _So the final question we must ask ourselves is this: now that the de facto leader (Malfoy) is gone, will others make a play for that position? Will we see more internecine murders or similar action among these criminals who still roam our streets?_

Sirius chuckled at Hobby, who had just walked in and taken a seat, grabbing a breakfast plate and loading it with some toast, eggs, and so on.

"I did not realise how valuable Skeeter was", said Sirius.

"Valuable? More like 'malleable'!", smirked Hobby.

"So... this sets the stage for our next steps?"

Hobby nodded. It was hard to grin while chewing anyway.

"How did you think of this Hobby? This is fantastic! Settles all our arguments from yesterday neatly, and with a little creative positioning of bodies, even the last couple of them can be eliminated".

Remus had walked in just as Sirius was saying this. He still did not seem entirely convinced of the need to eliminate the death eaters in such a permanent manner, but not only Penny's scolding yesterday, but the promise of using veritaserum on anyone before doing anything to them, had mollified him. Of course, it was too late for Avery and Mulciber, but they had teetered even on the question of torturing a seven year old child, and had to struggle to say "no". Clearly, if the child were older, or if it was some innocent muggle, they would have no hesitation, and it was a reasonable supposition that they must have indulged their sick sadism several times in the past.

Hobby looked at Remus. "Hey Mooney, you're a detetective. What's the best way to murder someone and get away with it?"

Remus thought for barely a second. The context of the discussion was a big clue.

"Hmm, make it look like a suicide, I suppose!"

"Exactly", said Hobby.

Sirius was still a little slow on the uptake. "But these are clearly murders...?"

"Well, Sirius, think of the group of death eaters as a single entity, not as multiple individuals. The group is - slowly - killing itself. And speaking of which, the four that Skeeter mentioned explicitly as missing, presumed murdered by Malfoy, are waiting to be questioned by the five of us. Once Nick and Penny get here with the truth serum, we have to go to the dungeons of #12, question them, and if we all agree, dispose of them permanently".

Remus nodded. "Regardless of how we justify it, there is a certain finality in killing someone. At the very least, getting rid of the body..."

Hobby looked at him for a beat or two. "Much as I hate Crouch senior for what he did to Sirius, do you know what his son did to him back in my old life? Killed him, transfigured his body into a bone, and threw it into the forbidden forest for some scavenging animal to gnaw through".

He looked saddened. "And much as I love magic because it makes some things so easy, I also hate it because it makes bad things as easy as good things".

* * *

AN: canon related plot hole here; wonder if someone will catch it :)


	31. Chapter 31: Serving death

Chapter 31: Serving death

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** Also, am I the only one who thinks "death eater" does not mean what JKR thinks it means?

 **1988-08-09 11:00 UTC, location unknown**

A bit after their breakfast was done, Hermione had come in and asked if she could play with Harry in their backyard. Sirius would have liked to ask the kids to go to her home, but they'd been doing that a bit too much already - imposing on the Grangers quite a bit. So he decided to tell them it was fine. He charged Kreacher with watching them and ordered him to **instantly** alert him if absolutely anything out of the ordinary happened.

They then moved their discussion to Nick and Penny's place, instead of continuing at Kithurst Close.

Sirius had been thinking about the discussion they had had at breakfast, and something didn't sound right.

"Hey Hobby, wouldn't it be better to make it all look like an accident or a natural death of some kind? Why make it a suicide at all?"

Hobby looked at Remus, saying "I was expecting you to come up with this, how come you didn't?"

"Oh come on!", said Remus, somewhat annoyed. "That only works for one or two deaths, but we're planning close to a dozen. So many 'natural' deaths shows a definite pattern, and it clearly means someone _outside_ the victim group has _really_ planned it well. No no no, if it can't point to us even indirectly, it has to be internecine".

Hobby looked at Sirius. "Happy?"

"Hmm yeah, I suppose it does make sense that it wouldn't work for large groups, especially when the people in that group have an obvious common factor of some sort", said Sirius.

But this gave him another idea. "OK, fine. But what if we make it look like something that is affecting everyone with a dark mark? Some degenerative disease that has slowly crept up on them unnoticed till now, and only now has manifested itself. We're not creating a new common factor, we're just using an existing one."

"Yes but that would only work if you were sure to find absolutely all the marked death eaters. And you'd have to include Snape in that too, and I'm not comfortable with that. All I wanted for him was to be out of Hogwarts by the time Harry got there, since he _was_ really on our side all along in the bigger picture", said Hobby.

"Alright fine", said Sirius. "Shall we go and deal with the rats?"

"Yes. I've prepped a room for their interrogation. And we will do it one by one; no point taking chances!"

Nick would accompany them, while Penny stayed with Harry. They decided that as the best way to take care of this issue. Kreacher was also asked to stay near Harry, whether he was in Nick and Penny's place or at Kithurst Close.

* * *

They brought Yaxley in first. After stunning the rat and then transforming it back to a human (since no one else knew parseltongue, Hobby was free to use the password openly), they sat him down in a chair, bound his arms and legs, upto the wrists and ankles respectively, tightly enough to be just on the threshold of "painful", then woke him up.

Since he had been aware of himself and his surroundings even as a rat, he now stared at them balefully. Well it would have been a baleful stare if his circumstances were not so constrained.

Sirius walked into his field of view, and Yaxley became even more agitated. "I should have known you were in cahoots with the Phantom, you bastard", he growled out. "I will make sure others hear about this".

"Yeah yeah yeah", drawled Sirius. "You can tell Malfoy when you meet him, but most of the others, like Rookwood and the Lestranges, may not even have heard of the Phantom in the short time they were with us".

"What nonsense are you spouting? They're all dead - you bastards killed them!"

"Yes, and I am saying they are the only ones you will be able to tell about my connection with the Phantom", smirked Sirius. Whether he was actually enjoying himself or not, he certainly wanted to make Yaxley think he was.

The Phantom took a vial of veritaserum to him and indicated he open his mouth.

"Go to hell", said Yaxley. So the Phantom simply pinched his nose until breathing became a problem and he had to open his mouth. Then he poured a teaspoon of the stuff down his throat.

"Yes the correct dose is much lesser, but that's what you get for your attitude", he said.

They asked the standard "what is your name" question for completeness, though they had no doubt who he was. Then they proceeded to the questions that mattered.

"Who are the light side people you have killed?"

"One of the Prewett twins, and Bones". ("He means Amelia's brother", whispered Sirius to Hobby, at a questioning glance from him).

"How many muggles have you killed without reason?", asked Sirius.

"None", said Yaxley, shocking Sirius badly.

Hobby looked at Sirius and shook his head. "How many muggles have you kidnapped out of their homes and tortured and killed?"

Yaxley took a few seconds. The potion was compelling him to be truthful, and he needed to count in his mind.

"Seventy nine".

"How many of those were children below the age of seventeen?"

A longer pause, then "Thirty four".

"How many families?"

"Twenty two". This was much quicker.

"How many children age twelve and under?"

A pause again. "Twenty seven".

"How many of the girls and women were raped before being killed?"

"Thirty four".

Everyone was getting angrier and angrier. Remus looked like he was losing his earlier "no need to kill them" attitude, and looked ready to do the deed with his bare hands.

Nick was the only one who seemed to be calm, but if Penny was present she would have seen it was his occlumency making it seem so. Knowing all these things happened, at a "newspaper report" level, was one thing, but hearing cold numbers from the perpetrators was quite another. Nick suddenly wondered about his and Penny's own motivations in staying away from this conflict. _There was so much we could have done if we had wanted to_ , he thought sadly. He'd have to have a long talk with Penny soon.

Remus looked at the Phantom. "I think that should do. Kill him and get rid of the body", he said callously. This was not yesterday's Mooney.

They realised they had not discussed the manner of death. Unlike a regular court, they did not have to worry about social acceptability of the mode of death, but their own squeamishness had to be taken into account.

They went into a huddle, though not bothering to whisper; they didn't care if Yaxley heard them.

"I think the simplest would be some sort of fast-acting poison. Muggle cyanide may be quite suitable", said Nick. "Or there are a number of potions I could whip up in a couple of hours".

"I don't want to delay this. I want him dead **now** ", said Sirius. Remus nodded at that.

"A cutting curse, even the 'Snape special' version, would be too messy. Sure, magic would clean things up pretty fast, but repeated over time with several others, I don't want those images in my head forever", said Hobby.

"And the killing curse is out. I'm sure all of us have enough anger in us to fuel the hate required, and that would be fine if this was a one-off, but if we're going to kill all of these bastards, we can't do that. So many killing curses will affect us, later", said Nick. "In fact, I've never used a killing curse on anyone, in all my years."

"It seems to me that all these methods still leave us with the problem of disposing of the body. Of course the Crouch junior method is a good last resort, but I think the simplest way is for me to pop them into the veil room in the department of mysteries and chuck them into the veil", said Hobby.

Sirius had a problem with that. "You will be taking the mental load of all their executions, alone. I don't like that. Can you pop two people?"

"That mental load is not a big deal, but sure I'd appreciate the moral support. I can certainly pop two people, but it may be even better to turn him back to a rat before we go. And we **don't** turn him back to human when we get there - we chuck him in in the rat form."

"I think that is the best plan. I will go first with him", said Nick.

* * *

Once Nick and Hobby returned from the department of mysteries (having encountered no resistance of any kind, and in fact they were not even seen by anyone), they began discussing the next three.

Remus suddenly turned morose. "I don't think we could have used the killing curse after the first four or five anyway. Our anger would not be spiking like it is right now - we would have gotten inured to this kind of thing. I am beginning to wonder if we will be psychologically affected simply by listening to their responses".

Nick nodded. Despite his age, or probably because he had spent much of it somewhat aloof from the world at large - none of the ugliness of life really affecting him or Penny - he was feeling guilty already.

"There are four of us. In twos, that's six combinations, so we reduce our exposure to this crap by a sixth each", he said.

No one mentioned asking Penny to join them, even though they knew she was perfectly capable of doing so.

* * *

Hobby and Sirius went upstairs to the kitchen for a cuppa, while Nick and Remus continued the interrogation of the next one, Selwin. It went along similar lines, except that Selwin had not killed any of the light side fighters. When they were convinced of his guilt, they called Hobby down to do his thing - he was the only one who could turn them into rats with a parseltongue password, as well as the only one who could go directly to the veil room in the Department of Mysteries. He and Remus went to the veil and chucked Selwin in.

* * *

Travers was a bit of a surprise - he poked out his tongue when offered the veritaserum. For a moment Hobby was afraid he was innocent; it was hard to find someone who was guilty, who would be eager to take the potion.

But that was not the case. He was actually very proud of what he had done, and - either because he was so stupid he did not realise this was his last day on earth, or because he was smart enough to realise that _and_ that nothing would change that - was happy to, in essence, _boast_.

His willingness to take the serum had another side effect. He was being interrogated by Sirius and Remus, but by the time they were ready for Hobby to take him, Hobby had just started a (late) lunch, so they waited for a bit.

By the time Hobby came down, the potion - since this was a normal dose - had worn off. So when the Phantom came down, and Sirius told him "straight into the veil room for him!", Travers sneered at them.

"I'd like to see him get past the wards and the protection that the DOM has. No man can get through those wards!"

The Phantom decided there was nothing to be lost, so he turned into Hobby. Saying "No man am I" and winking at Remus (he didn't think Sirius would have read it anyway!), he turned him into a rat, grabbed Sirius, and popped away.

* * *

An hour later they had done Rowle also, in the process finding that he had been responsible for the death of the other Prewett twin as well as Marlene McKinnon.

After this they broke up for the day. From now on they would do only one or two at a time, and even that with sufficient gaps in between. Much better for their sanity.

* * *

 **1988-08-11 22:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

They'd taken a couple of days break from the intense moments of two days ago, and were now discussing next steps. Hobby, as usual, had started things off.

"As I see it, there are three type of bad actors we need to deal with it: death eaters, sympathisers within the ministry, and then there are the dementors. Sympathisers _outside_ the ministry get a free pass, or at least they're less of a problem in the short to medium term", he said.

"Of these", he continued, "I am regretting letting Umbridge off with an Azkaban sentence. She was a huge problem - in many ways worse than most death eaters because she was in a position of trust, but even that was not the big problem".

"So what was the 'big problem'?"

"Well, Padfoot, do you remember when we asked Yaxley if he had killed any muggles without reason, and, even under the truth potion, he calmly denied it?"

"Yes I was wondering about that", said Sirius.

"Simple. Either they think they have a god-given right to do so, or they were ordered to, and both of these qualify as 'reason'. It's the same with Umbridge. She _believed_ she was doing the right thing torturing and killing muggle-borns and their families. The fact that she did not have a dark mark and was therefore _not_ merely following orders, just makes it worse. I _may_ give a death eater the benefit of the doubt, but not her - and this is pure logic talking, not anger or hate!"

"Hmm, so I guess she's next?"

"She, Fudge, and Pettigrew. I don't think you'll complain about any of them", grinned Hobby.

"So how do we do this? They're all in Azkaban, and if they suddenly turn up dead it may look suspicious", said Sirius.

"Yes of course. I think this calls for a slightly more involved plan. I originally thought it would be nice to have some 'rogue' dementors kiss them, which would build a case for destroying the dementors later. But there are two issues with that. First, I don't know how to destroy dementors; we will need to research that. Second, I don't want even a small amount of misplaced sympathy for these three. By going after the dementors who supposedly killed them, I'd be tacitly giving them - albeit too late - my sympathy."

Hobby left shortly after, with no conclusion reached on how to handle this.

* * *

 **1988-08-15 07:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Sirius picked up the Daily Prophet in a bored manner. Nothing much had happened in the last few days, and even Hobby had not been around.

Then he glanced at the headline. His eyes goggled!

 ** _Three found dead attempting to escape Azkaban_**

 _Aurors who arrived at Azkaban for the weekly shift-change and administrative hand-offs, were shocked to find two bodies on the pathway between the landing dock for the boat, and the prison fortress proper. It was later determined that there was a third body there too._

 _The DMLE's investigation team has been trying to reconstruct the chain of events that could have led to this situation. (The Prophet will not call it a 'tragedy'; see editorial for more on that). The investigation was complicated by the fact that the only beings that may have information about what has happened are the dementors, and they don't really communicate the same way we do. An expert from the Department of Mysteries was also called in, but he was unable to add much._

 _The facts, as near as can be determined, are these. Cornelius Fudge, former minister, serving a fifteen year term for conspiracy to murder, corruption and other charges, and Dolores Umbridge, his under-secretary at the time he was minister, serving a life sentence for attempt to murder and other charges, were found kissed by dementors. Their posture indicated a desperate attempt to protect themselves by essentially covering their faces with their arms and hands, but, as is well known, that doesn't really work._

 _Subsequent examination of the cell blocks revealed that Peter Pettigrew was also missing. A search of the area near where Fudge and Umbridge were found revealed Pettigrew, also kissed, but in his rat form. A wand belonging to an auror who had been relaxing in the auror's ready room a couple of hours earlier, was also found nearby. The auror had been stunned with his own wand and was woken up only after all these discoveries were made._

 _The rest of the findings are somewhat speculative. We will try to lay out the reasoning, including the known facts and the guesswork, for our readers._

 _It is well known that Peter Pettigrew, infamous for betraying the Potters, killing over a dozen muggles, and then framing Lord Black, was an animagus, specifically with the form of a rat. Although the prison administration has been very careful about setting up anti-animagus wards over Pettigrew's cell, and the wards were still in place, it would appear that Pettigrew managed to get out of his cell by some, as yet unknown, means, and_ _ **then**_ _transform, to evade detection. (As a result of this, the prison administration is considering layering anti-animagus wards over the entire prison, though it remains to be seen if that is even possible)._

 _It is speculated that, once he had transformed, he had made his way to the auror ready room, waiting for an opportunity to strike. This happened when auror Jonathan Dunstan entered, made himself comfortable on one of the easy chairs in the ready room, and settled down for what he intended (according to a statement he made later) to be a quick nap. The prison administration informs us that this is normal and expected; that is indeed the whole purpose of the ready room._

 _Once auror Dunstan had nodded off, Pettigrew seems to have relieved him of his wand, stunned him, then left. On leaving, he may have transformed back to a rat, or disillusioned himself. (The prison administration is also considering disabling certain spells within the fortress; again, it is not certain if that is even possible. The Prophet will keeps its readers informed as we hear more)._

 _At this point, for some reason, he appears to have made his way toward the cell block where Umbridge and Fudge were lodged. The DMLE investgators could not find anything that links Pettigrew to these two, although Gringotts records have not yet been examined for a possible connection. One speculation is that Pettigrew picked the only two people in the prison who might possibly have agreed to a plan of revenge against Lord Black, and/or some of his known friends and associates in the Wizengamot, such as Madam Bones. An attack on the boy-who-lived could also have been on the cards, since Fudge was known to be very close to the deceased death eater Lucius Malfoy._

 _When the Prophet asked why Pettigrew did not attempt to free Narcissa Malfoy, who would have been considered an even better candidate for an attempted escape with subsequent revenge upon Lord Black, we were told that Pettigrew may not even have_ _ **known**_ _of this, since this news was barely a few days old._

 _In any case, Pettigrew managed to free both Fudge and Umbridge, and somehow escape the fortress proper, taking them with him. However, they could not avoid detection by the dementors, and not only were Fudge and Umbridge swiftly caught and kissed, but Pettigrew's rat form would also appear to have been chased down and kissed._

 _We at the Prophet will continue to monitor this situation and will have more information for you as we come by it._

Sirius smirked and turned to the editorial page, because that also promised to be juicy. He was a little annoyed at Hobby for not informing them of the plan and going it alone, but then again, he (Sirius) would never have accompanied him to _that_ place anyway.


	32. Chapter 32: Bumblebees bumbling

Chapter 32: Bumblebees and their bumbling

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1988-06-22 23:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Dumbledore was almost gleeful! He had just come back from a very interesting conversation with Dedalus Diggle. While he no longer had an official reason to even go to the ministry, that did not mean he was without contacts willing to go the extra mile for the wizard who defeated Grindelwald.

Dedalus Diggle was one such. His family and Dumbledore's family had been allies for generations, and he was young enough (only fifty-four) that his father and Dumbledore had actually been friends, a shared love of the muggle sport of bowling cementing their friendship even more.

When Dedalus was a kid, and Dumbledore would visit his father, he could remember being awed by the man, long flowing red hair, an air of learning _and_ mischief about him. This was still a very young man, by wizarding standards - barely over fifty, if he recalled. Perhaps he was the age that he, Dedalus, was now.

Some years after that, Dumbledore had gone off to fight Grindelwald, and by the time he returned the elder Diggle had passed away. Dumbledore was very sad, even more so because he was not around when his friend was taken away by an illness, so he transferred his affection to the young man. Said young man was very depressed over the untimely death of his father, and the general atmosphere of war, plus Dumbledore being away on the continent, did not help his mental state.

It fell to Dumbledore, when he returned, to take care of this - his friend's children needed him and that was that. Dedalus and his younger sister Deleria both regarded Dumbledore as something like an uncle anyway, so it was not altogether strange.

Diggle was, thus, firmly a Dumbledore supporter. Albus could do no wrong, as far as he was concerned. Such was the extent of his support for Albus that he was, if that were possible, even more affected by the events of February and March two years ago. He moped around for weeks after, as if the world was ending, and it fell to Dumbledore, yet again, to bring him back to his senses.

Yesterday evening, somewhat later than was normal, Dedalus had floo-called Albus. Poking his head into the fire, he called out for his pseudo uncle, and waited for him to answer. When he did, he said, "I've got very important news for you; would you prefer we talk in my study or should I floo through to your office?"

"I would much prefer your study, Dedalus", he smiled broadly. Especially if your elf Lonsy is going to make her excellent after-dinner coffee!"

So he floo-ed through, shook off the soot, and followed Dedalus into his study.

They first called Lonsy, and asked her if she wouldn't mind terribly making up a platter for the two gentlemen to snack on, and two cups of her special coffee. (Dumbledore was nothing if not polite and gentle to elves).

Having dispensed with that, he turned to Dedalus and asked, "so what's the big news?"

"Harry Potter has been kidnapped from his muggle home", said Dedalus succinctly.

During the two years or so since his "fall", Dedalus and some of his other sources had often spoken about the Phantom - some in glowing terms, which only served to turn Dumbledore even more against him - but many in negative terms.

As for Dumbledore himself, it was a toss-up whether he hated he Phantom because he was a vigilante, or because he was looking all set to be more popular than Dumbledore himself!

And so, when he heard that Harry had been kidnapped, he immediately said "it must have been this Phantom!"

Dedalus had not been expecting Albus to fret and worry and show a lot of concern, considering his history with the boy, or rather the boy's guardian, but this was a bit too nonchalant for him. He raised his eyebrows significantly, then immediately composed himself.

"No", he said blandly. "The kidnapper's demands are that the Phantom expose himself in the Wizengamot tomorrow."

 _Oh well, Neville it is, then_ he thought. Dumbledore put on a very sad face, and said, "that means the boy will die. The Phantom is a cruel, evil, person, who does not appear to care too much for life", he said sadly.

"On the contrary, the Phantom has promised to do so tomorrow! A special meeting has been called!"

Dedalus was smirking as he said this; it was not often he got a chance to completely counter his pseudo-uncle with facts. And Dumbledore was clearly shocked. He, of course, considered dealing death to anyone at all - even death-eaters - as "evil". There were no shades of gray.

 _This bears thinking about_ , he thought, fighting to hide his joy. With a muttered goodbye to Dedalus, he floo-ed back to Hogwarts.

 **1988-06-23 06:00 UTC, Little Whinging, Surrey**

Dumbledore was sure this would spell the end of Sirius's claim on Harry, since he clearly was unable to protect Harry. Despite being on the outs with most of the current power base in the ministry, he was pretty sure he could wing this if he went directly to the public first, and pleaded for the boy-who-lived to be protected.

But in order to do that, he needed to get the Dursleys back. He knew Sirius had hidden them away somehow (he didn't think Sirius would have _killed_ them), so they needed to be found.

He wandered around Harry's old neighbourhood, under a powerful disillusionment charm, looking for someone who might have known the Dursleys well enough to have kept in touch.

He very quickly realised that he would get nowhere without legilimancy, so - still under the disillusionment charm - he snuck into the nearest neighbour's house. He petrified, legilimenced, and then obliviated them when he found nothing of importance.

Four more times, in four more houses, he did this, before he found the next link in the chain. Number 7 was occupied by an elderly gentleman whose memories told Dumbledore that the Dursley boy's best friend was a Piers Polkiss, who lived a couple of streets away.

Dumbledore made his way there, and similarly interrogated the boy _and_ his parents. Unfortunately, other than knowing he had been transferred to the United States, he was unable to get anything more concrete. Sirius had been, it seemed, pretty clever about this.

 **1988-06-23 09:00 EST, Washington DC**

Dumbledore waited a few hours, due to the time difference, and, shortly after lunch, apparated to see his long-time friend Bathsheba in the US Department of Magical Affairs.

Actually, that statement needs two amendments. The word "friend", applied to the relationship between these two, was largely in Dumbledore's mind. Bathsheba did not truly consider him a friend - she had long ago realised that he was much too manipulative to ever be anyone's friend. However, she tolerated him, and let him think she thought as highly of him and he did of her.

The second amendment to that statement was that Bathsheba was not her real first name. She was born Elizabeth Everdene, but some fan of Hardy had nicknamed her Bathsheba in school, and the name had stuck.

On this bright and sunny day, she looked up at the knock on her door, and somehow knew who it was even before she called, "come in".

Dumbledore walked in, a broad smile on his face, his long beard neatly plaited and combed to a shine, his robes a much more sober colour and cut than he would have been wearing back home in the UK.

She stepped out from behind her desk to greet him as he simultaneously flung his arms wide to pull her into a loose hug - purely platonic, thankfully. (She often thought, however, that she was lucky Dumbledore was gay. Otherwise, being one of the few women of his age, he would have probably tried something, and she would have had to quickly disabuse him of the notion that she would ever consider him even a true friend, leave alone someone to get emotionally entangled with!)

"What brings you to our backwaters, Brian", she asked him.

While she may have gotten used to being nicknamed Bathsheba, he had never managed to get used to being called Brian, despite the fact that it was at least one of his middle names. It was - always had been - her way of subtly reminding him of the American policy of wizard-kind blending in as much as possible with the normal world.

He smiled at her, nevertheless, and said "How have you been, my dear? It has been far too long since we met or spoke".

"I am good Brian, never better. I hear your life has become a little quieter and less exciting?", she teased him. She, herself - despite her almost similar stature in the US to his in the UK - had always refused to become a "big-shot", as she called him. Gently rubbing it in that he was now the same as her - though not by choice - was fine; Dumbledore was too consummate a politician to be needled by teasing from a friend.

"Yes it has, Bathsheba, indeed it has', he replied. "But of course life is never simple, and one's responsibilities do not cease with a resignation or two".

"Yes, I've heard of your responsibilities", she teased again, though now she wondered if she was crossing lines she had not crossed before. Did he have a breaking point for criticism from friends? _Well, we'll find out now, I suppose_. After all, she _had_ been warned he would be coming.

"But let us speak of that later; it's time for my breakfast. Come", she said, and led him out to the department's cafeteria. Like many employees, she preferred to arrive very early, get some serious work done, and then go for a long, leisurely, breakfast. Besides, if she had breakfast at home, it would be alone and somewhat boring, while here - here was where her life was.

* * *

Eventually they came back to her office, after Dumbledore was waylaid by no less than a round dozen senior employees of the department, an unusually high number considering his last few visits hardly one or two had even bothered to look up and notice him accompanying their elderly colleague. How many of them were genuinely curious and wanted to hear his side of the story, and how many knew more than they let on and were goading him, was uncertain.

"So what is it that brings you here, Brian", she asked, once they had both sat down with a cup of tea each.

"I need to find someone, my dear - a family", he said. "A family that is, I dare say, very important, even vital, to the war effort".

"What war? Unless _you_ are waging one, I am not aware of any war in any part of the magical world at this time".

"You know very well, Bathsheba, that Voldemort is not truly dead. As long as that is so, we are - whether we realise it or not, whether we accept it or not - at war", he said grandiosely.

"I think you have a Churchill complex, Brian. You want to be like Churchill, and you are - in more ways than one. You've been chucked out of office pretty much the same way he was, after the war was over. Except it took a lot longer in your case".

"I do _not_..." - he paused. He was _not_ getting into childish "I do - I do not - do too" arguments with his oldest friend.

"Be that as it may, my dear, I do need to find the Dursleys, and I would be very grateful if you would smooth my way through your excellent government to do so".

"I'm sorry, Albus, but you'll have to give me a heck of a lot more than that if you want me to go to the NWLO - I assume the Dursleys are not magical - and ask them for help."

Dumbledore stared at his cup for more than a few seconds. When she appeared to have stopped staring expectantly at him, and looked ready to turn back to her computer, he spoke up.

"The Dursleys are the rightful guardians of Harry Potter. I placed him with them when his parents died, but he has since been removed from their charge, and they themselves have been sent to the US. Harry Potter needs to be returned to their care."

"Where is he now?"

"He is with his godfather, who is, I am sorry to say, quite an unsuitable guardian", said Dumbledore sadly.

Bathsheba saw right through that, but didn't react. Instead, she said, "but he's magical?"

"Yes but Harry does not need to live with magic right away. There's time enough for all that when he turns eleven", he said.

"I don't think so. If you're really right about Voldemort, I'd say that's even more reason to make sure the boy-who-lived has a head start on his magical education".

She turned really serious now. "Look, you've always been very cagey about these things, and I know you. You're hiding something. Unless you're willing to come clean - and I mean _really_ clean - you're not going to talk to the NWLO."

"Aah, there you ask me things which I cannot divulge, my dear. Truly, I had not expected you to be so intransigent. Can you not trust me that I have good reasons to ask what I do?"

Bathsheba held his gaze for a while, then said, "first, I'm as old as you are". "Second, although I eschew being a big-shot, for some inexplicable reason I _am_ as much of a big-shot here as you are in your little island across the pond". What the heck, in for a penny, in for a pound, she thought, and add, "an island the size of one of our smaller states, don't forget".

"And third, you ask me to trust you, but you apparently don't trust me. I have no stake in this, and I am just as much of an occlumens as you are, and I'm no stranger to keeping secrets, so why?"

She didn't wait for him to respond. "The only reason I can think of is that your conniving, manipulative, mind is upto something I would not agree with if I knew the truth. You think I wouldn't see through that?"

Dumbledore was shocked. She had never, _ever_ , spoken to him like this. Sure there had been lots of banter and teasing, but this was in a whole different category.

"I am hurt, Bathsheba. I thought you were my friend". He thought he could guilt her.

"I _am_ your friend, Albus, which is another reason why I am not letting you con me into this", she said.

And he was so struck by the fact that she had called him Albus - she had never done that before, this was literally the first time in the many decades he had known her - that he completely missed that fact that she had accused him of trying to "con" her. Much later, when replaying the conversation in his head, he caught that, and realised a bridge had been burnt today, though he wasn't sure who had burnt it.

At that moment, though, he looked at her even more sadly, if it were possible, and said "Then I shall take my leave, my dear, because clearly we are at an impasse". Having said that, he reached forward, gave her a perfunctory hug, and left.

Bathsheba sat back down, waiting for the door to close. She tapped a few keys on her computer, popping up a video feed of the front door of the building. Once she saw Dumbledore leave, she picked up her phone and dialed a number, waiting for the other party to respond.

"Our 'friend' visited me, just as you said he would, but answer me this: why did it take him two years to do this?"

* * *

 **1988-09-01 18:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Dumbledore was unhappy. He'd been unhappy for more than two years now, of course, so this was nothing new. The staff had gotten used to it by now - Minerva and Filius especially were very happy with the turn of events two-and-a-half years ago, when Dumbledore had been viciously out-maneuvered by Sirius Black and his lawyer, and Madam Longbottom had not wasted the opportunity thus presented to her.

He knew there were four powerful women arrayed against him: Griselda Marchbanks, Augusta Longbottom, Amelia Bones, and - the unkindest cut of all - his own deputy, Minerva McGonagall. What _was_ it with all these women - were they taking lessons from Bathsheba?

The deterioration of his relationship with Minerva was what would have troubled him the most, but it paled compared to Bathsheba's attitude, so he really couldn't complain. Still, he had always been someone people looked up to, and there was never any unpleasantness between him and his staff until now.

Well, except for what was a really minor difference of opinion. They never could agree about Severus - Minerva had never forgiven him for hiring a death eater. Thank god she did not know _Severus_ was the one who pointed Voldemort at the Potters - she would have eviscerated him long ago, and fed his entrails to the giant squid.

He had realised too late that this was not a "minor" issue at all, as he had always claimed. Minerva had always claimed that Severus's behaviour was quite inappropriate for a Hogwarts professor, or indeed anyone in the teaching profession. He used to dismiss it out of hand - often with an amused laugh. _God that must have really angered her, even if she didn't openly show it_ , he thought.

He had always maintained that she was merely sore over Gryffindor losing the house cup several years in a row. Worse, he had refused to believe that either Filius or Pomona felt the same way. _Why didn't they speak up if they thought there was a problem_ , he mused, quite unable to realise that if his old friend Minerva could not get him to do something, what hope did they have?

Where the past few years of complaints about Severus were dismissed by him - erroneously, as it turned out - as a lioness's hurt pride ( _I wonder if I can use that pun and get away with it?_ ), he knew the real damage had started when he had made exactly the opposite mistake. He had failed to recognise her depth of affection for Sirius, and had called him a "waste of time", and she had reacted in a way that he simply could not have predicted.

While he would always regret that his high-handedness had caused the sedition charge that lost him his two positions of power, he now knew full well that the seeds of his downfall were sown on the day when Sirius and Minerva had popped in to ask for his pensieve. That was also - as he found out much, much, later - the day that Sirius got to say his piece to a much more sympathetic audience. An audience that he could easily charm his way around, if charm were needed.

And it was Longbottom and Bones who had gleefully hammered the nails in the coffin of his political career. They, and Black.

* * *

He was interrupted in his reminiscing by Minerva's cough. He was supposed to address the new students, and his attention had wandered off while the sorting was going on.

With a visible effort, he shook off his depressing thoughts. Would not do to be anything but his usual self - genial, amused, amusing, grandfatherly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts to the newest members of our little community here", he smiled, sweeping his arms wide as if to encompass everyone in the room in its embrace. "If you're as hungry as I was when I got sorted, you must be annoyed at the idea of listening to an old man's speech before dinner".

He looked around as if for confirmation, but except for some of the older children who were nodding and grinning at him, there was stoic silence all round.

"And so, we will do our mandatory bits of speaking _after_ dinner", he said. A bit of a pause, for effect, or for a reaction - no one would know - and he said, a bit more loudly, " **Let** ... the feast begin!"

Minerva looked at him funnily. _Does he think this is impressing people? Oh sure the first years, and especially the muggle-borns, but everyone else knows by now what he was, and what he is_. It was indeed amazing how he managed to cover his failures and put on this mask.

Dumbledore, of course, did not notice. He served himself some meat and some vegetables, and a couple of rolls, and went back to his musing.

 _The Potter boy being kidnapped proves that he should have stayed with the Dursleys. And now the Dursleys can't be found at all - there's no telling what happened to them, or if their move was forced in some way_ , he thought. _If I could only figure out where they are and get them back, in three years time I will have Harry here and be able to work on the problem of getting him back to the Dursleys_.

If Dumbledore had been asked **why** he wanted Harry there, he would have been at a loss to come with any clear, cogent, reasons - at least not one that he was willing to share. That was partly why he had not answered Bathsheba when she asked. His core reasons were, of course, that Harry was a horcrux, and he had to die, but he could not very well say that to anyone. He, himself, did not believe in divination, so Sybil's trance - which he suspected was faked, somehow - did not bother him too much.

(After she had come out with the prophecy - how convenient that it happened during a _job interview_! - Dumble investigated Sybil's movements for the preceding few months. Sybil had been very active, especially in the Hall of Records, and there were several RFIs (requests for information) filed by her or on her behalf. She also had a few friends on the auror corps, and it would not be hard to come up with something).

No - the prophecy could not be brought up. Besides, it appeared _Voldemort_ believed in it, so speaking about it - which may result in the full version being released - was out.

His best defense was that there were blood wards around the property since Lily's "blood" lived there, but Croaker would shoot that out of the water pretty quick.

 _And that is another problem. It's not just the four most powerful women, the one most powerful man after me in the government is also acting against me_.

There was literally no one else who was as powerful. Oh well other than Nick and Penny anyway.

 _Thank God they're not getting into the act, too!_. On that bright note, Dumbledore smiled again, turned his attention back to the hall, and stood up to do his opening feast speech.


	33. Chapter 33: Swatting the bumblebee

Chapter 32: Swatting the bumblebee

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** Apologies for a chapter that is a bit shorter than the average so far.

 **1988-09-13 10:00 UTC, location unknown**

"Nick! Penny!", called a voice from the floo.

Penny walked into the room from wherever she was, and smiled delightedly at her young (relatively speaking) friend.

"Good morning Alice, would you like to come in?", she said. She did note that Alice looked a trifle agitated, and it was best to deal with whatever the problem was more directly than through a floo.

Alice's head left the floo, and a few seconds later she walked out gracefully, and quickly vanished the few bits of extra soot from her clothes.

"Is Nick around?", she said. Then, without waiting for an answer, "I actually need to get a hold of that elf who wanted me to heal that muggle woman a couple of years ago", she said breathlessly. "It's urgent".

Hobby was in the next room, and he had heard. He was wondering if Healer Ashwell had forgotten him or something - he _had_ been expecting a bit of an inquisition from her. He liked her, she was good at her work _and_ a nice person, so he didn't feel like blowing her off, but at the same time, there was no way he was going to share his story - and his dual identity - with someone so far outside the core events of his past life.

"Good morning Healer Ashwell", he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"I thought Nick was not your master - what are you doing here?"

"My master asks me to be here and give Nick and Penny company", Hobby said without thinking. Then - with a strange feeling of deja vu - he bit his tongue. This was the second time he had messed up in front of this person.

"And he also lets you call them 'Nick and Penny'? What do you call _him_?"

But by this time Hobby had recovered, and he grinned at her. "Nice try ma'am, but I don't screw up twice in such a short period", he smirked.

She grinned back, clearly enjoying the banter, then she got serious.

"Hobby, that girl - Dumbledore briefly scanned her mind a few minutes ago, and - knowing him the way I do - will probably do a deeper scan later tonight, when she is asleep".

"How do you know this?", asked Hobby.

"I had put a SNORT in her mind".

"Sorry what's a 'snort'?", asked Hobby, puzzled.

"Apologies; medical jargon", she said. "It was originally created only to detect mental intrusions on pureblood heirs, so they called it an IDS. Then someone modified it to detect other kinds of attacks, so they called it AIDS. Luckily some muggle-aware healer shot _that_ down before it could take hold".

"But still... snort?", persisted Hobby.

"Primarily it detects three types of attacks. First, attacks on the nervous system and the brain, which includes the imperius curse and the cruciatus curse, as well as mental intrusions: legilimancy. Next, it detects anything happening to the musculature and bones - reductors and other explosive curses, bone-breakers, even a non-magical injury, like falling off a horse. Finally, it detects respiratory problems, such as from the asphyxiation curse. All this comes from analysing the death-eaters favourite spells during the last war". She stopped as if that explained everything.

Then - catching his look - she continued. "So they established a committee to come up with a name for this". Hobby looked suspicious, so she continued, "really, I'm not joking! The best name they could come up with was **Secondary Nervous, Orthopedic, and Respiratory Tracker** ", she said, a trifle shame-facedly.

"That's a **terrible** name! Were you on the committee?", teased Harry.

"I was but my choice was just 'ADS'. Which no one liked", she sighed.

Then she shook herself. "Anyway, the snort charm I put on her tells me her mind has been probed, albeit gently, and it also tells me who did it.

"Dumbledore, I'll bet", said Hobby, with a look of mild anger on his face.

"You know, you are the most unusual elf I have ever met", smiled Healer Ashwell. "I'd love to scan your mind; would you let me?"

"Sorry but no. Meanwhile, I need to alert my master", said Hobby, and he popped off.

* * *

 **1988-09-13 10:15 UTC, Hogwarts**

He popped into Hogwarts, straight into Filch's office. Filch was there, puttering about, and muttering to himself. Or maybe to Mrs Norris, who was sitting at his feet. She turned to look at Hobby and hissed at him.

"What is it?", growled Filch. He had an uneasy relationship with the Hogwarts' house-elves. They treated him like one of their masters, same as any other staff member, because it was in their nature to, but he always felt inferior to them. After all, they could do with the snap of a finger what may well take him several hours.

Hobby sent a silent stunner at him, earning a much longer, more vicious sounding, hiss from the cat. However, instead of lunging at him, as he was expecting, she backed up further, until her body was mostly under Filch's chair, only her head sticking out and glaring at Hobby.

Hobby wasted no time. He rifled through the drawers of the single, massive, desk, until he found what he wanted. Having found it, he popped out, straight to the seventh floor.

Wishing himself a simple room with a few chairs and a long table, he walked in and spread the map. Not knowing a way to quickly search for someone, he searched every classroom, methodically, until he found her. When he was in school, this was easier - he knew at least several names in each year and house, so he had been able to skip entire rooms in such a search. Now that was only possible for some of the senior years.

Anyway, he finally found her in the Charms classroom. It looked like the class had just given over, and the students were making their way out.

He knew she was in Hufflepuff - he had visited when she was sorted, and also spent a bit of time here and there to make sure she was alright. She appeared to be heading for the Hufflepuff common room, which meant she had a free period before lunch.

He needed to separate her from her friends, but that was easier said than done even for the other houses, and these were 'Puffs. So he waited inside their common room. When she entered, he sent her a mild compulsion to go to her dorm room, instead of staying in the common room. He felt slightly guilty, but the compulsion was extremely mild; even a child, if she really did not want to do it, would have been able to resist it. Or at least that is what he believed.

Whatever the ethics of this, she walked up to her room. She saw the elf sitting on her bed, and stood there puzzled. She'd never seen an elf do that.

Then she remembered. A shy smile crept upon her face, laced with a little bit of fear. The last time she saw this elf, he had saved her from some bad people, and also that her mother was in much worse shape, and this elf had brought a doctor to help her. (Of course, she had no memory of the _details_ of her long imprisonment, so she thought her mother was worse off).

"I remember you. Is my mother OK? Did something happen to her or my dad?", she asked.

"No Miss; nothing. I needed to speak to you", said Hobby. "My name is Hobby, by the way", and he held out his hand.

She held out hers, and shook hands. Just like a couple of non-magicals meeting for the first time and introducing themselves.

"Did the headmaster speak to you today?", asked Hobby.

"Yes. He announced during the opening feast that he had decided to meet with each of us individually, starting from the first years. I guess it took him a couple of weeks to get to us third years".

"What did he ask you? And did he do anything else? Did he test or examine you in some way, using his wand or otherwise?"

"He asked me a few questions. He especially wanted my memories of two years ago, but I did not want to tell him anything. Besides, I don't actually remember much anyway. When I told him that, he let me go, but by that time I had a headache".

"How much time do you think he spent with you?"

She thought for a moment, and started looking puzzled.

"You know, it's funny. I only remember about five minutes or so of conversation before I was dismissed, but it seems as if it took a lot longer".

Hobby was shaking with suppressed anger. However, he didn't want to scare the child, so he calmed himself down.

"He was probing your mind, using a magical technique called 'legilimancy'. He does not have the right to do that though".

"Oh", said Emily.

"Next time he asks you to meet him, please call for me. You don't have to shout or even speak normally; just whisper and I will come. I may not be visible, but I will be there, and I will briefly pat your arm to tell you I am here. After that nothing will happen to you."

"Why did he do that?"

"I think he was trying to find someone. He was trying to find my master, who was responsible for rescuing you and several others from several other pureblood homes. But don't worry, we can take care of ourselves", he grinned.

She felt a little easier at his smile and the words of assurance. "OK, I will do that. Just 'Hobby'?" she demonstrated her whisper.

"Perfect", said Hobby. "Oh and by the way, even if someone _else_ calls you, let me know if you ever get the kind of headache you got this time, or you think you have lost some time like you did just now, OK?"

He gave her another smile, patted her on her arm, and popped out.

* * *

 **1988-09-13 17:00 UTC, location unknown**

Dumbledore found himself in a very unusual situation. He was tied up hand and foot, and the room he was in, appeared to be sucking out his magic. Or at least preventing him from flaring it in anger. Or any other emotion.

It was also affecting his occlumency.

A house-elf was standing in front of him. "Ah, you are awake", he said. "I will get my master", and he popped away.

A few seconds later, the Phantom was in front of him. He recognised him from some of the vague descriptions, but mostly from the fact that he could not see his face at all, and the Phantom was the only one who had ever done that. (The Unspeakables also did the same, but in their case it was an effect created by their charmed identification bracelet, so he could detect the _source_ of that magic. In this case he could detect nothing.)

"What do you want?"

Too late, he saw the Phantom's companion. Similarly attired, similarly blurred, but distinct nevertheless.

Without warning, the Phantom's companion launched a mental attack, the like of which Dumbledore had never ever experienced. This seemed to be from a powerful mind, a mind that spoke of enormous brute strength, yet a gentleness that could rock a baby to sleep if it wanted to. None of the gentleness was being wasted on him though, and his head was splitting under the attack. This would be the mother of all headaches.

Finally, the attacker relented, and Dumbledore was freed. He immediately went for his wand, but of course didn't find it.

The Phantom calmly handed it to him. That was bad enough, but what he said was worse. "I am now the master of the Elder Wand, headmaster. You may use it, but if you abuse its power, I will take it away", said the Phantom.

"May I ask what this is all about? How have I wronged you, whoever you are?"

"Legilimancy on minors is illegal, headmaster, and you have intruded on the minds of several children. Some of them have complained of unusual headaches, and it didn't take us long to ask a few questions and realise the common factor among all of them was a visit to your office", said the other wizard.

Of course, none of that was true. They only had the "snort" system, and that too only on Emily, but misdirection was useful. Even necessary, to protect Emily.

The Phantom turned to his colleague. "What did you find?"

"He's been doing this to all the muggleborns. Systematically. Methodically". The wizard was visibly angry.

"What was he looking for?"

"Memories of you, or your elf. I suppose, since it is well-known that you saved a bunch of them from Malfoy and his cronies, he thought they'd remember something about you."

The Phantom looked at the headmaster with a vicious smile. He produced a paper and ballpoint pen, and handed it to the headmaster.

"Write down something that is not very important, not secret, but you have a distinct memory of".

Dumbledore paled. No one said he was stupid; he knew exactly where this was going.

"I do not believe that is necessary. I think I understand precisely what you are telling me", he said in a resigned tone.

"Nevertheless, a demonstration will serve to prevent any second thoughts in future", said the Phantom, and again thrust the paper and pen in Dumbledore's direction.

"It is really not needed; I believe you and I know what you can do to me. This will not happen again, and in any case I have now found you so we can disc-"

"No", the Phantom cut him off. "The demonstration _is_ needed. You are notoriously megalomaniacal, and without this reinforcement you are almost certain to regress".

Very reluctantly, Dumbledore took the paper and pen, and simply wrote down "The day McGonagall joined the staff of Hogwarts".

"Isn't that an important memory?"

"Sentimental, but not significant in any other sense", said Dumbledore. It was left unsaid that she and he were on the outs with each other now, and what little sentiment he had with regard to his dealings with her had turned bitter anyway.

Remus, though Dumbledore did not know it was he, turned his wand on him again, and carefully ripped that memory out of his head. It took a bit of time, but it was not hard to do.

"Take a look at the paper".

Dumbledore took a look, fearfully. What would he find? What memory had he been forced to sacrifice?

He read his own handwriting, and a wave of relief swept him. Even though he knew they had let him choose, he did not remember what he had chosen. Now, for the life of him, he could not remember anything about the day McGonagall started work as a teacher.

"If I hear of any more attempts at legilimancy, we will wipe out all your good memories of Ariana", said the Phantom, with a cruel grin. "We will only leave the one where she died".

Dumbledore slumped down in defeat, but that was not the end.

"If you really need to talk to me, call for my elf, Hobby. He won't appear, but he will hear, and will tell me. Now, what is it you wanted to speak to me about, for which you violated the privacy - and in some cases health - of so many children under your care?"

Dumbledore had the grace to look ashamed at that statement. It was, after all, a very clear and succinct description of what he had done.

"I wanted to ask you about bringing the Durs-"

" **No!** ". This time the interruption was much more forceful, and the room seemed to shake with the Phantom's anger.

Dumbledore found himself lifted off the chair he was sitting on, but his throat. This other wizard, whoever he was, had enormous strength.

Hobby glared at him. "You will cease to interfere with Harry Potter's life. As far as you are concerned, he does not exist. What we will do to you if you try anything with him again, will be a hundred times worse than what we just promised you if we hear of you legilimancing another student. **Do you understand?** "

Dumbledore nodded.

" **DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Say** ** _yes, I understand_** **. Say it!** "

"Yes, I understand". Never had he been treated like a school child, not even when he _was_ a school child. And this was well beyond how even the Marauders - perennial trouble makers all - had ever been treated by him. Dumbledore was angry beyond belief, but he forced himself to keep calm. Time enough to figure out next steps once he was back in his domain.

The Phantom glared at him once more, then took his arm, and popped him into his office.

An even more chilling thought hit him as he realised something. He had no clue _where_ he had been taken, nor how someone had managed to apparate him out of Hogwarts. He, the headmaster, who held all the wards, who was the only one who was allowed to make portkeys in and out. Someone had kidnapped him from his domain, from his stronghold. And then put him back.

Too bad there weren't any chamber-pots in the room; he might have guessed where he was.


	34. Chapter 34: Worth a wolf whistle

Chapter 34: Worth a wolf whistle!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1988-09-14 07:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

"So, does this fix the Dumbledore problem for us", Remus asked Hobby.

"That man is like a child when it comes to lessons - lessons that he disagrees with anyway. He'll regress, as I already told him he would. Our threat would prolong the relief period a bit, but I'm willing to bet that by the time Harry is ready to go to Hogwarts, he will have something setup".

"And you know exactly what that is", said Sirius. It was part-statement, part-question.

"Probably", grinned Hobby. "I already told you a lot of what happened anyway, so you know it too! And don't forget, it was the memory of that incident that I have to thank for the brilliant inspiration I had when I came back - to contact the Flamels and ask for their help", he said, looking very pleased.

"I still think we should have had Dumbledore arrested", grumbled Sirius.

Harry had not yet come down for breakfast - he may not have woken up yet, actually - but Hermione, who was by now as much a part of this household as her own next door, had walked in just as Sirius said this. She stared at Sirius, eyes wide. She knew who Dumbledore was, of course, though without the additional hero-worship baggage that the wizarding world had.

But still... "Arrested? What did he do?"

And just as Sirius was smacking his face with his palm for not realising she was there, Harry walked in. "Arrest whom?"

It was left to Remus to settle them down. "All in good time, young man, and you - young lady - have you had breakfast or would you like to have it here?"

"Here", grinned Hermione. She knew there was a story of some sort coming, and her awe at the enormity of what she had heard was gradually being over-shadowed by her thirst to _learn_ more. Whatever that might be. Voracious readers don't stick to the classics; a newspaper is just as much grist to their mill!

After wolfing down their breakfast in record time, they looked at Sirius. Sirius looked at Remus. Remus looked at Hobby. It was quite funny, actually, if you weren't one of them.

Hobby, of course, did not have any qualms, so he didn't try to evade the question.

"Dumbledore did something very wrong", he said. "Something that is against the law".

"What did he do?", said Harry.

Hobby chose his words carefully. "Well, there is a magical technique to read people's minds. Using that spell, you can see into someone's mind, find out what he is thinking, look at his memories, and so on. Of course, this is clearly illegal, because it violates the target's right to privacy".

Harry wasn't completely sure what the problem was, but Hermione nodded understandingly. "I see. Yes that would be bad", she said slowly and quietly. "I would hate to think my parents could find out _everything_ I was thinking", she continued, almost to herself. Then she blushed when she realised everyone had heard her.

"Anything you would like to share, Ms Granger?", teased Remus.

"N-no", she stammered. Recovering quickly, she pulled the discussion back to Dumbledore. "Why did you not get him arrested then?"

"Yeah, that's what I say", said Sirius, with his hand up.

"Because", said Hobby in a patient drawl. "As I've already told you, we need him at Hogwarts. However much I may hate what he did to me and others, the fact is that his brand of evil is much better controlled when you keep him in your sights. As long as he remains at Hogwarts, he can't do _too much_ damage".

"Keep your enemies closer?", asked Remus.

"Cliché, but yes. Pretty much. More importantly, I need him to do certain things he did last time, which will help flush out Voldemort properly. If we put him away, that part becomes unpredictable", said Hobby.

Harry was clearly worried. "Does this involve me in some way?", he asked warily.

Hobby was quick to reassure him. "Only in his mind", he said with a smile. "Of course, that in turn means that it will happen only after you go to Hogwarts, so in that sense it _does_ involve you, but I will be making sure that's the extent of your involvement".

"How?"

"You'll notice I don't actually have anything to do with my time. Plus you know I can hang around without being seen. Don't worry Harry, you'll be fine", said Hobby. "Now, enough of this; you'll be late for school if you don't hurry".

* * *

Once the kids had gone, Remus cornered Hobby.

"Seems like you have more to say?" Again, a half-question, half-statement.

"Yes. Time to get the next set of baddies out of the way permanently".

"Who?"

"This time there will be absolutely no guilt; not even a smidgen of it", grinned Hobby.

Sirius smiled widely, having guessed who, or rather, _what_ , the targets were. "Finally... OK how?"

"We need to ask Nick and Penny, look around for other sources of information. We don't really _know_ how to kill them, nor even _if_ they can be killed. The patronus charm only drives them away. I don't think it can kill them".

* * *

 **1988-09-14 10:00 UTC, location unknown**

Penny hugged them all, a bit longer than normal. "Nick told me what you four had been doing of course. You should have added me to the roster, reduce your load a bit. Do you forget I'm older than all three of you put together, and have seen far more than you can imagine?"

"It's OK Penny, we just wanted one of us to be out of it. It could have been anyone, it just happened to be you", said Hobby. _Well, anyone except me I suppose_ , he thought, but with no bitterness.

"So what brings you lot here? Normally you ask us out there so clearly this is something you want to keep from the kids", said Nick.

"We need a way to kill the dementors", said Hobby.

"Hmm, yes; we did discuss them at one point. I've been trying to think of how we can do this, of course, but so far have not found anything that is guaranteed to work", said Penny.

"And if you couldn't find something, Penny, it means there _is_ nothing to be found", said Hobby morosely.

"What do we know about them? Let's pool all of what we know", said Nick. "Penny and I have never actually run into any, despite our long lives. Remember we have lived outside the UK for a large part of our lives".

They looked at Sirius and Remus for their inputs.

"Not counting my experience _inside_ Azkaban, we both have faced dementors of course, before 1981, but other than firing off a patronus, we didn't really do much else", said Remus.

"No, we didn't hang around to chat with them and ask what their weaknesses were", grinned Sirius.

"Well, yes, they're not really great conversationalists or dinner companions", smiled Penny. "What else can we think of? For example, did they ever attack on bright, sunny, days?"

"Aah you think they might be vulnerable to sunlight, like vampires? I wonder what a sunlight spell, with maximum power, will do - would do to them", mused Remus.

Hobby shook his head. "I've seen them on bright days - it's just that once they appear it's no longer bright and sunny. I don't think that is it", he said. "What about sound?", he continued, and then, without waiting for a reply, "you know what, we need one to test!"

"Yeah, it'd fit right into Grimmauld before we cleaned it up. My mother would have loved a son or a daughter like that", said Sirius.

"Jokes apart, I think Grimmauld could have held him but I don't want to use it now. We could take one to the werewolf hideaway though - do it right after the full moon and we'd have a clear three weeks and a bit to experiment."

"Yeah but how do we capture one and get it to follow us? Do portkeys work on them?", asked Remus.

"That's the only thing we do know - portkeys were indeed the only way to safely transport them in the old days. In fact that is how they get about long distances. By themselves they are too slow to travel to the places they have been seen."

"OK, that's easy then. Since the last full moon was a week ago, shall I bring one in? It's not hard for me to apparate to Azkaban, slap a portkey on one, and come back. But we need to prepare some way to contain them".

"I'm pretty sure physical walls - stone or concrete at least - will work", said Nick. "You have some old buildings there right?"

"Yes, they should do. There's one room that would fit the bill; it has a wooden door reinforced with iron bars in a criss-cross pattern. And if he _does_ escape, we just slap a return portkey on him".

"So let's go check out the place and make the portkey".

* * *

 **1988-09-14 13:00 UTC, werewolf hideaway, Black estate grounds**

When they went to the werewolf hideaway, they encountered an unexpected problem. They were now glad they had stopped to check the place out _before_ bringing a dementor here.

The place was occupied! There were a few kids running around happily, a couple of young women smiling at them. One was medium height, dark-haired, and had a pleasant, motherly, expression on her face, as she listened to her friend animatedly describe something to her.

Her friend was tall, slim, but with a very fine bust - an absolute knockout figure, thought Sirius - and _golden_ blonde hair that fell over her back and side in waves. She was beautiful, almost picture perfect.

There were also clothes on a line, and a laundry basket, half-full, below it, probably with more washing to go on the line. There were a few other signs of domesticity, which the men noted but ignored. There was clearly no danger here, at least not to them.

There were no _men_ in sight, however, and the women first panicked on seeing them. Then the older woman recognised Sirius, and offered a hesitant smile.

"Good afternoon Lord Black!", she said. "I'm sure you're surprised to see us here".

"We can explain", said the other, in a very diffident tone. "We really had no place to go, and-"

"Wait wait, _who_ are you? How long have you been here? Do you know this place is dangerous once a month?", demanded Sirius. He was extremely worried. This was supposed to be a bloody **werewolf hideaway** , what the heck were **little kids** doing here?

"Oh yes Lord Black, our husbands have only been able to find work because of your generosity in letting us use this place; we know all that", said the first woman.

Sirius was slightly calmed on hearing that these were the families of the weres. He knew the weres who came here - well not each of them individually but in general - and knew that they would not intentionally harm anyone, and definitely not their own wives and kids. But...

"...but, but ... I didn't even know some of them were married! Not to mention having three- to four-year-old kids!"

Remus looked at them fondly, and put his hand on Sirius's arm to calm him some more. "They are very lucky to find partners who support them despite their affliction. Clearly, from the age of the kids, you knew them and had married them _before_ we met them and opened up this hideaway for their use!" Remus couldn't help smiling at the thought.

The women blushed. The older one stepped forward and put out her hand. "Elizabeth Meadows, Lord Black and Mr Lupin, very nice to meet you", she said. Her friend offered her hand to Remus. "Panacea Kepler, Mr Lupin and Lord Black; very happy to make your acquaintance".

They all shook hands. Panacea then turned toward Hobby, and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Panacea. What is your name?"

"Hobby", said Hobby, grinning widely and offering his hand. "Muggleborn?", he asked, smile firmly in place to show the question was not because of the usual - prejudiced - reasons.

"Muggle, actually", she said. Hobby's eyes widened. "But why do you ask?"

Hobby looked sideways at the other woman. "Well, people raised in the wizarding world would never even _think_ of shaking the hand of an elf", he said.

"Yes indeed Hobby, I was raised in the wizarding world, though I am a half-blood. I met my husband when were both about twelve - about three years _before_ he was bitten. It just didn't feel right leaving him after what happened to him, so I stayed with him. I have never regretted it", she said with a smile.

"But how does a muggle meet a werewolf?", asked Sirius, then bit his tongue when Hobby slapped him on his arm. "I'm sorry, I tend to speak first and think later".

"It's a valid question though", said Panacea, pushing a couple of chairs forward for the men, while her friend conjured one for Hobby. "I'm an electrical engineer" - Sirius looked nonplussed - "and I was driving home from the site of a blown transformer at a sub-station out near Snowdonia Park - one of the really remote ones - and my car had a flat on a lonely stretch. I pulled over as well as I could, but ended up on the wrong side of the road. This was about 5am or so, so I wasn't too worried; it would be light enough soon for me to change the tyre and be on my way, except for being enormously tired and hungry and irritable".

She could see they had guessed at least the next part, so she continued. "I got out of the car, and was just leaning against the bonnet. I had been waiting for about ten, maybe twenty, minutes, when I heard a growling behind me. I looked around and got the shock of my life: there was an absolutely enormous wolf, with slavering jaws, running at me full tilt."

No one was breathing. Clearly she was alright, and _not_ a were, so the ending must have been OK, but the suspense...

"I had the presence of mind to jump into the car and lock the door, and the wolf hit the side of the door hard, clearly winding it and laying it low for a few minutes. I wasn't safe though; one window was open - the left rear window, luckily, so it was furthest from the driver's seat. The wolf shook itself after a minute or so, then loped around to the open window. It tried to grab me through the window, but the window was a bit too small for its head and torso, and its arms - long as they were - would not reach me."

"I sat petrified, scared out of my wits, frantically trying to remember what I knew about wolves. I tooted the car's horn - it was rather loud, on that model - but it didn't seem to have any effect on the wolf, which was surprising".

"After a few minutes, the wolf appeared to tire, and sat down next to the car, but on the driver's side. It just sat there on its haunches, looking at me calmly. The slavering and the wild look had disappeared, and it looked no more dangerous than an overgrown Alsatian."

Remus nodded. "Moonset", he said.

"Yes. Of course I did not know what was happening. I was not yet out of danger, and the wolf was sitting in a way that it could not easily be seen by other traffic so people may not immediately see my problem. I could not get out of the car and wave someone down, so they might just drive on".

"Imagine my surprise", she continued, "when a few seconds later, the wolf started howling, apparently in pain. Its bones were breaking, the fur seemed to be retracting, and soon there was a somewhat injured man lying on the road, his clothes in tatters, panting for breath and in pain, probably from the hit he took when he rammed the car door.

To say that I was stunned would be a massive understatement. Now, almost five years later, I dread to think how badly it could have gone, but the surprise is no longer there - I'm used to it. I've been told this is how the parents of muggle-born students feel when they are first approached by someone from - Hogwarts, was it?" - the men nodded - "yes, Hogwarts".

"I got out the first aid kit, and tried to help him as much as I could. I also had food, as well as some hot tea in a thermos - working on remote sub-stations makes you learn to be prepared - and I made him sit up and eat and drink something. Gradually he opened up, and told me his story. He was sobbing at the idea that he could have killed me, and was actually feeling quite suicidal at the thought, now that he was human again. He was such a decent man - he wanted to kill himself so there would be no danger of this kind of a near miss in future."

At this point Sirius and Remus exchanged glances, and Sirius had the grace to look more ashamed and contrite than Hobby had ever seen him, in this life or the last. Of course, he knew what that was about, so, not wanting to have Sirius dwell on it, he focused on Panacea, nodding at her to continue.

"So anyway, long story short, we kept in touch. Initially I only wanted to make sure he would not kill himself - he said he was not allowed to seek counselling, and explained the statute - so I took it upon myself. And the rest, as they, is history. It was not some 'love at first sight' thing, much more gradual, but today I love him just as much as I loved him before we got married, and I thank god I was able to snap him out of his suicidal mood that day, and every time I look at my daughter I feel doubly blessed".

"Where were you living before you came here?", asked Sirius.

"It was not easy. My salary was good - I was good at my job - but female engineers are rare, and being a field worker was even more rare. But about three years ago, just when I had delivered, the company started reducing field strength, and I basically lost my job. I had not widened my skills, and the only thing I knew, was no longer as much in demand. I now have a desk job that pays much less, and we make do, but life was hard. It especially sapped Derek when he could not hold down a job for more than a month, and every month we had to depend on my salary. Then the baby...", she sighed.

"Shortly after this hideaway became available, Derek brought me here the day after, just to show me how good it was for him now, and how he was so happy he was no longer a danger to me or our baby, or, indeed, to anyone else. I took one look and realised we could use this. I told Derek to ask around if any of his buddies had wives, and if they would consider moving here and setting up a joint household. There'd be a lot of repairs, too much for one family, but two or three could manage."

She looked a little guilty at Sirius. "We did consider asking you before hand. But one thing I learned at work was that it's always easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. I hope you'll forgive us!"

Sirius would not have said no to such a beautiful woman, whatever she asked him, even though she was clearly happily married and he did not even remotely intend to hit on her. It was just basic gallantry after all.

"No no, my worry was about your safety. What do you do on full moon nights - I understand there are about forty weres here".

"We all go off to my mother's place in Wrexham. It's about forty miles, but it's just me and Liz and two kids-"

"-and her mum is sweet enough to pretend she has two daughters and two grand-children", smiled Elizabeth, with a look of gratitude at Panacea.

"Hmm, OK. Only two of you? No one else in that group married?", Remus asked.

"You said it yourself. Our men are lucky - you know it's not easy for them. But over the last two years - thanks to you - I think a few of them have managed to acquire girlfriends. The only trouble is they're all muggles, so how to tell them, is the issue."

Sirius nodded at that. "Well, how're you guys set for money? You still have your job? How do you get there from here?"

"We're OK. Not extravagant, but once in about two months we can take in a movie - we alternate babysitting with Liz and her husband - and that's more than we hoped for about three years ago."

Sirius looked at Elizabeth, who nodded and simply said, "we're in a similar position, though since I am half-blood I do have a bit of wizarding money also laid by for a rainy day. It's not much but we make do."

Hobby piped up. "Well, if you need anything, just call me; no strings attached. I'll help, or find someone who will help".

Panacea looked a bit confused, so Elizabeth explained. "Just say 'Hobby' at a normal volume, and he will hear and come".

It took a while for Panacea to digest that, but at the same time, Elizabeth was surprised to see an elf talking independently. She didn't remark on it, though.

Meanwhile, Hobby had a question.

"This is going to sound silly, but I normally see the oddball, Roman inspired names in purebloods, and the normal English names in muggleborns. But... _Panacea_?"

"Oh my dad was a big fan of Asterix, and when I was about a year old, and my hair had grown a bit, he decided to officially change my name, claiming 'there's only one name for her'", she said, blushing brightly.

* * *

AN: this chapter went way way way away from me. I started it intending to kill off the dementors, but then Panacea came along (see chapter 1 for how I pick my OC names) and distracted me.


	35. Chapter 35: An Angus by any other name

Chapter 34: An Angus by any other name...

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** (Also, please don't look too closely at the science!)

 **1988-09-18 03:00 UTC, Azkaban**

The following Sunday, the plan went into operation. "Operation Patronus", as Sirius jokingly named it, had two phases. The first phase would bring in _one_ dementor, and they would perform several experiments on it in order to find some fast and easy way to kill it.

In preparation for that, Sirius had bought tickets to Alton Towers, including two nights at a hotel nearby, for all the residents of the werewolf sanctuary. The kids were a little too young for the rides (actually much too young), but the parents would enjoy themselves. Panacea's mother had taken the two kids for the weekend, even Elizabeth's daughter being now used to being in the care of the kindly old lady.

Hobby was now in Azkaban, with two portkeys in his pocket. The return portkey had an activation phrase that was unlikely to occur in normal conversation, yet was easy enough to remember ("back, thou foul beast"). This would put whoever was touching it back in Azkaban, just behind the front doors.

The other portkey would take the dementor to a closed off, bunker-like, room (but with small windows on all four sides) at the sanctuary. This was in a different building than the one that Panacea and Liz and their families used, and set far enough away from both the main habitation as well as the surrounding areas where they had seen the kids play. Which was good - there was no telling what it would look like once their experiments were done.

At this point, Hobby had managed to get the attention of one of the dementors, which appeared to be alone. He threw the portkey at it, and shouted "prepare to die".

Nothing happened. Well, the dementor started moving toward him but nothing _else_ happened.

 _Rats! I forgot the damn anti-portkey ward. I need to lure this thing out of the building proper_ , grumbled Harry to himself, somewhat shamefacedly. _How could all of us have forgotten about that?_ , he wondered.

But getting the dementor to exit the building was easier said than done. At one point he was almost sure one of the human guards had seen him, so he quickly turned himself invisible.

As soon as he did so, however, the dementor lost interest and walked away. And because this happened very close to the front doors, and thus very close to success, Hobby was not too thrilled. He was also beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea, because if he was going to have this much trouble getting hold of _one_ dementor, how were they going to nab all fifty or so of them?

He turned himself visible again, and doggedly set off in pursuit of the dementor, trying to remember why they had less trouble when he suddenly remembered and mentally face-palmed. _Of course! I was bringing out some of the prisoners!_

He looked around the jail a little. There was a slight chance that the prisoner he used to lure a dementor out could accidentally get kissed. _Too bad none of the hard-core death eaters are still here_ , he grumbled. The prisoners that were left were not as much of an open and shut case.

He suddenly remembered that Alecto Carrow should be here now. He hadn't kept track of what happened to her after the incident where she and her equally gullible brother had been incited to kill Rookwood, but it was a safe bet that she would be here.

He did not want to spend _too much_ time searching, but he would feel better if he found a genuine death-eater. So he wandered around as quickly but unobtrusively as he could, looking into various cells. Did they segregate women prisoners? Was it by seriousness of crime? He wasn't really sure - and whatever it may have been earlier, may have changed after the bulk of the death-eaters were "released".

His task was made difficult by the patrols. He'd always assumed that only the dementors patrolled the old fortress, but human guards apparently did too. Again, was this new, since Bones became minister? He didn't recall having this much trouble when he managed to "release" Fudge, Umbridge, and Wormtail from the shackles of life (as he had grandiosely put it to himself then). Maybe that was pure luck - they just happened to be on the same floor, and within a few cells of each other.

It was not that he had a problem being undetected. Elves were powerful at that, and Harry the wizard was no less so. The problem was many of the prisoners were - almost literally - hiding deep in their cells, and he had to either pop into each cell to determine who it was, which was tiring, or use a weak, focused, lumos to identify the person from outside, which might be seen by a passing guard. His previous forays had been at a time closer to daytime, and lighting (or rather, the lack of it) was not such a big issue.

And even if this succeeded, he would have another problem. If it took this much trouble to lure one dementor out, it would be a lot more difficult to lure all fifty (or however many there were) out. That would _definitely_ get noticed, and he would have a fight on his hands - a fight with honest, decent, aurors who were just doing their jobs. A no-win situation for Hobby, since he didn't want to accidentally hurt them.

Just as he was about to give up, he came upon Alecto Carrow. She was sitting with her back to the cell door, but slightly in profile and was clearly her, or at least someone who looked fairly similar. What were the chances that there were two like her here? _None_ , thought Hobby, and he popped her out of the cell.

Instantly, he was accosted by two dementors. They were very close to him - too close for comfort, so he popped to the inside of the front gates, just behind a corner where the guards in the main guard room could not see him, and waited.

In a few seconds there were four dementors upon him. This was fascinating. He knew dementors did not patrol here except when called by the guards, because there were no prisoners here, and the guards needed to be rested and alert, not be constantly enervated by the presence of dementors.

Which means, clearly, that they have some way of communicating with each other. _If they weren't so disgusting, Hermione would have loved researching them_ , he smiled to himself at the thought.

He popped out of the door with his prisoner, because he didn't dare to actually open the door. He wasn't sure if the dementors would sense that and follow him out, or walk away, having lost the "scent", so to speak.

Luckily, the door opened, and first one, then another, and finally all four dementors had come out.

Before the fourth one was fully out, Hobby slapped the portkey on the first one and muttered, quietly but clearly, "prepare to die".

Then, a quick brainwave having occurred to him, he popped off with Alecto Carrow first to Grimmauld's dungeons, securing her there before going to the werewolf sanctuary to make sure the dementor had arrived and was contained.

 **1988-09-18 08:00 UTC, werewolf hideaway, Black estate grounds**

The dementor was pacing about in the room that they had designated for this test. The door was locked, of course, and it could not escape.

Sirius, Penny, and Nick were looking in from a small window, and they had what one might call a "plan" in place, which is to say that they had a list of things to try. They'd already crossed out the first item on the list - non-lethal curses. After all, who knows? Maybe a tickling charm has a much more debilitating effect on dementors! Well, it didn't even register, as they found out.

Now they were moving up to somewhat more damaging spells. The room was sturdy enough, and Penny had layered some strengthening and protection charms to buttress the physical structure, so they were firing destructive curses at the dementor within.

Dementors were slow to move, so it's attempts to dodge were not very good, and their curses did hit their mark most of the time. But it didn't appear to do any damage. The dementor would pause a bit, and look down (did it even _have_ eyes?) for a second or two, then it was back to normal.

"Have we tried any unconventional curses? Freezing water and ice, for instance?", asked Hobby.

So they tried it. It only appeared to make the dementor happy.

"OK wait, if that is making it happy, what about fire?", suggested Remus.

They all fired incendios at it together. This had a noticeable effect: the dementor now appeared to be angry as hell, but not hurt in any manner.

"Well, if nothing else, we know how to get the whole lot to leave the prison. Just fire incendios at them and pop out!", said Hobby. He had not yet given them any details of what happened at the prison, so they took a breather from their experiments while he filled them in.

"Yes that may work", said Nick. "But you said you kept Carrow away... that would be even easier", he said.

"Yup; I was hoping I could use her. My guess was that if I pop back to just outside the gates with her, even though the guards may or may not notice, the dementors will recognise that a prisoner is outside and will come swarming out. Is that what you mean?"

"Exactly. And their instinct to kiss an escaped prisoner should override their self-preservation, as in, even the sight of some of their brethren being portkeyed away will not stop that from happening. So... keep about fifty portkeys handy". Sirius grimaced at that; "I'd better start now", he said.

"Meanwhile, we have not solved the more important problem", reminded Mooney.

They heard a car horn outside, and Remus literally _ran_ to head off whoever it was. It was taking all their self-control, as well as dancing around to keep to the furthest window from where the dementor was, for them to retain their minds. Whoever was in that car - most likely Panacea - would be really badly hit.

"What are you doing here?", Remus shouted at her from the front door. "I thought we told you not to come back till late Monday evening?"

"I forgot some things I need for work, things I simply cannot do without", she said a little shamefacedly.

You couldn't really be mad at Panacea; not only was she a very nice, sweet girl who would marry a were for love, the fact that she was an absolute knockout and could have had her pick of men made it even more remarkable.

Remus waved her out of the car, but stopped her at the door. "Now you listen to me carefully, missy", he said. "At the first sign of trouble, you **run**. You get into the car, lock the doors, and sit tight. If you're feeling up to it, drive - but don't risk an accident. They can't get into locked doors so - even if you feel miserable - you'll at least be safe until the dementor has been dealt with and someone gives you the all-clear".

"I was half expecting you to wag your finger at me", laughed Panacea. "Sure, I'll be careful. The stuff I need is in the nearest cupboard in the front entryway anyway."

"Please don't laugh! This is not a laughing matter, and I would hate to see anything bad happen to you", grumbled Remus.

But when she went in, she stopped dead about twenty feet away from the nearest window to the room in which the dementor was being kept.

"That's a very strange sensation", she said. "It's vaguely similar to what I get when I am working. Similar, but in many senses the complete opposite".

"What do you mean", said Remus.

"Well... as I said it's kinda hard to describe. When I am working on or near one of the heavy duty transformers, I feel the electricity, or rather the EM field I guess" - Remus frowned at the unfamiliar term, trying to place or guess what it meant - "I'm very sensitive to it. My skin feels tingly and my hair stands on end, or at least it seems so", she said.

"While here", she gestured toward the room at the other end, "it somehow feels the opposite - as if everything is wet or damp".

"Hmm, I wonder if that tells us anything about the dementor", Remus thought aloud. He knew a bit muggle science of course, but was nowhere near a professional electrical engineer.

"You know what we could do? I've got some spares in the shed down at the end, let me see if I can rig up something to test", said Panacea excitedly.

She quickly ran to the shed, and picked up a bunch of random-looking wires and coils and other similar things. She then drove the car right up to the front door, and spent about 20 minutes carefully doing something to the car. As she worked, she talked through it for Remus's benefit, so he could at least pick up the general idea.

"This battery puts out 12 volts. The ignition coil transforms it to a few tens of thousands of volts - needed for the spark plugs to do their job and ignite the fuel".

"So you're pushing those tens of thousands of volts into these two wires?"

"Yes, but it will only be a short zap - then we have to make and break the primary coil connection again to recharge it."

"Great! Lucky you had such long wires, I guess?"

"Yes indeed, and lucky they're pure copper - very little line losses, and since I will be twenty or more feet away, I need you to follow my instructions carefully".

"What happens if we touch it ourselves?"

"Well you'll get the shock of your lives", grinned Panacea.

"But nothing permanent?"

"Oh no not at all! An old man might suffer a heart attack or something I suppose, I don't really know. But at your age, nothing lasting".

"Then this may not be sufficient", said Remus with a slightly morose air. "I can't imagine something that kills a dementor but does not kill a human. Anyway let's try it".

Once the equipment was ready, they wound the extension cables around two long wooden stakes that Sirius conjured, and poked both through the nearest window to reach the dementor. (This was mostly Nick - he seemed to be the least affected by those things.)

The dementor jumped a foot, but then resumed his angry demeanour after a bit more time recovering.

They tried it again, and he took a bit longer to recover this time. After the fifth shock, he was slumped down, but to their disappointment, he was nowhere near dead.

"You're right, this won't work. Even if it does, I'll have to bring in a truckload of batteries to do all fifty, and it's just too impractical to even test properly", she said despondently.

Remus gave her a brief sideways hug and an encouraging smile. "Well we all learned something, and we still appreciate you thinking of these problems from a fresh perspective, one which absolutely none of us here have. It's just too bad the current was too weak to kill it".

"We were upping the _voltage_ , not the current, Remus", she smiled indulgently. Sure he was a private investigator in the muggle world but his science education had never really even started, let alone completed.

Then she went all glassy-eyed and stared into thin air. Then she smiled, and said, "thank you Remus! You gave me a wonderful idea! I'll be back in a few hours", and she quickly got in the car and backed out fast, tyres squealing.

Remus looked on after her departure, wondering what idea she had got, and then turned back to Sirius and Nick and the others, and the regular spellwork.

* * *

"Well, nothing _really_ worked, yet. Even the vague things that _may_ work, are not scalable when it comes to fifty or more dementors", summarised Hobby morosely.

"Except we haven't tried fiendfyre yet", said Nick. "We just need to transport them to a place where we can use that spell safely".

"Yes, and that was fine for the horcruxes, because they don't move off on their own. By definition, any place we can cast fiendfyre safely is also a place where the dementor has a fairly good opportunity to escape. Or, worse, turn on us in some way".

They all nodded, some more grumpily than the others.

"Is there any enclosure that can withstand fiendfyre?", asked Hobby.

"Well, a room made of heavy stone masonry, magically reinforced, would be safe. But other than Hogwarts, I'm not sure there is any that is strong enough. I mean, sure, there are a lot of castles around, and some of them _may_ have a room or two that is sufficient, but we'd have to test them out. And after fifty applications of the fiendfyre almost anything will give up the ghost".

"OK, next question: can dementors travel over water?"

"No", said Penny, and then she shrieked and hugged Hobby. "Perfect! Problem solved!"

"Well, not quite, but likely", said Hobby with a grin.

Sirius had a puzzled expression and was clearly on the verge of asking anyway, so Hobby explained. "We just have to find a smallish island, less than a few square metres in area. Get the dementor there, and use fiendfyre on the creature from the safety of a broom or something. Neither the dementor nor the fiendfyre can escape."

"Where would be find such an island? That could take some time", said Sirius.

"There's actually a cave I know which would have been ideal. Infested with inferii too, so we'd be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. But I really don't want to go there if I can help it", said Hobby with a shudder.

"Might not that area have other caves which are smaller in size?", said Penny. She and Nick had already heard of this cave of course, and knew about the fake locket lying there.

"Sure, we'd have to go looking, and it will take time. I guess we could have planned the 'testing' better", sighed Hobby.

" **Rockall** ", shouted Remus, beaming at everyone, and clearly expecting applause.

What he got was stunned silence.

"I think the phrase - such as it is - is _rock on_ ", said Hobby with a grin.

"Huh? No! I was talking about the island called Rockall", he clarified.

Penny and Nick both knew of it of course. "It's a few hundred miles from any other land mass. Sirius would have to overpower the portkeys significantly, but before that we'd have to travel by broom to find the place and get its portkey co-ordinates", said Nicky.

"There are also several possibilities north of Scotland, but they may be too close to Azkaban and attract attention. I definitely do not want even a remote chance of this becoming known to anyone in that vicinity. Our best bet is to look in the Hebrides", said Penny.

"Yup, not something we want to do today", said Hobby. "Let's have lunch; I think better when I'm not starving!"

* * *

They had a good lunch - all of them being hungry - and were just about to discuss whether to send the dementor back, when they heard the sound of a heavy vehicle - or at least something heavier than a car - coming up the drive.

It was Panacea, but not her car - this was a smallish truck. She stopped as close to the door as possible again, and looked at them with a grin when they, all of them, came to the door.

"I need help pulling this off the car. Two guys can do it - no magic please!", she said.

Sirius and Remus walked to the back of the vehicle, and - although he looked puzzled at first - Sirius quickly followed Remus's lead in opening the two doors at the back, and then manhandling the piece of equipment off of it and into the entryway. Panacea directed them on where to put it, and which way to orient it.

She then got another piece of equipment from the passenger seat of the mini-truck. "This is a transformer", she told them (only Sirius was completely clueless - the others had some idea).

"It looks very different from any other transformers I have seen", said Remus. "Why is the top coil so thick, with only 3 turns?"

"It's all thanks to you, Remus", Panacea twinkled. "You, and a friend who owes me, and allowed me to borrow his genset".

Remus looked like he almost got the answer, but not quite, so she continued, "I realised that increasing the voltage may not have helped, but increasing the current almost certainly will. Especially because, unlike the previous time, this is not a single discharge - we can keep this going for more than a few seconds before we have to stop and let the wire cool down".

"So... reducing the number of coils increases the current?"

"Yes. In this case it gets up to 800 amperes - melts most metals, which are not as conductive as copper. It's also why the copper is so thick - anything less would quickly overheat. Anyway, enough talking; let's get to it", she said.

She had Sirius fetch her the same wooden stakes they had used previously, and tied the two thick ends of copper wire trailing from this transformer to them. Unfortunately it wasn't long enough to _wind_ around the stakes so she used pieces of twine to tie them. It was still somewhat short, so they'd have to chase the dementor _into_ these ends by sending patronuses from the other windows, but if this worked they could always spend the time and money to buy more of this cable.

She showed Nick how precisely he was to connect the two stakes to a dementor (briefly, anywhere you like, but keep the ends within 2-8 inches of each other).

The dementor could not sense anything specific, so - possibly overcome by curiosity - it grasped one end each.

The screams were horrible, and the sight and stench were promising to be as bad, if not worse. Fortunately the sound lasted only two seconds, and in those two seconds the dementor's two hands, and most of its torso, flashed into one huge burst of flame. And, while no one really knew what a dead dementor looked like, this was certainly one **destroyed** dementor, so one hoped it was also **dead**

"Alright Sirius, how fast can you make portkeys?", grinned Hobby.


	36. Chapter 36: Speculation and confusion

Chapter 36: Speculation and confusion

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1988-09-19 07:00 UTC, location unknown**

Nick was exhausted. To be honest, so were Hobby and Sirius - one from so much elf-apparating back and forth, and having to separate one dementor at a time from the larger group to slap a portkey on, the other from _making_ so many portkeys.

But Nick easily had had the worst job of all. To begin with, he had to get close enough to the dementor to touch it with both the wooden stakes. Since the dementors moved about, this was exhausting work.

Then, as each dementor died, the foul stench of whatever was left, and the bodies - such as they were - piled up in the room, causing even Nick to feel somewhat nauseous. It got to the point that Penny and Remus were taking turns vanishing the remains and freshening the air every two or three dementors.

But in the end they deemed it all worth it. Hobby's description of what the dementors had been given permission to do by Voldemort, and how many muggles - who had no knowledge of the magical world, leave alone being able to defend themselves against something they could not see - were killed, had shaken them all. This was much worse than what they had seen in the first war, and that was already bad enough. So they were determined that not _one_ of these unnatural beings would be left alive. Guarding Azkaban was not, in any case, a huge priority - the most dangerous of the prisoners had already been dealt with, one way or another.

Despite how tired he was, Sirius knew there would be a Wizengamot meeting today, so he downed a couple of energy potions and shook himself awake. _A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do_ , he told himself, with an inner smirk at his euphoria, no doubt caused by their success last night!

The Daily Prophet soon arrived, and Sirius busied himself in reading the headlines while trying to eat some breakfast.

 **Dementors defectors?**

 _The dementors have left Azkaban, according to highly placed sources giving us a late night scoop. However, it is not known where they went, nor why, though there is no shortage of speculation._

 _"Azkaban has always been a dark, dank, dreary, dull, dismal, depressing place", said one source (quite unnecessarily, in this reporter's view!). "It is my opinion that even the dementors have become depressed and have left for happier hunting grounds", said Salish Girgashite, a filing clerk in the DMLE's records office. It is unknown what gave him these insights, as he was ordered away from the press corps by the head auror before we could ask for more information._

 _The head auror himself refused to speculate, only stating the bare facts as he knew them (see detailed report on page 3). Other sources the Prophet attempted to elicit information from, had varied responses. All of them were smarter than Mr Girgashite, as they only spoke on condition of anonymity. The consensus was that the dementors had defected, and therefore this was a sign that, if not the Dark Lord himself, then at least someone with similar sympathies, was amassing his troops._

The article continued in a similar vein, but there was very little of substance in it at this early stage.

 **1988-09-19 09:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic**

The Ministry was in a flap. Sometime last evening, the auror contingent at Azkaban had reported that many of the prisoners - who should have been quiet and subdued, with the dementors patrolling - were instead being quite boisterous, and in some cases even euphoric.

On attempting a count of the dementors, they found that about half of them were missing. Attempting to communicate with the creatures was a dodgy affair at the best of times, and tonight, the ones that remained appeared to be much more restless than usual, making any attempt at getting some answer even more futile. As such, the auror team had merely attempted to restrain them and prevent them from leaving Azkaban castle.

Exodus Cautor, the warden of the jail, had been summoned to the Ministry to make a statement in front of the Wizengamot, and the questioning had quickly taken a somewhat unexpected turn.

Minister Bones was conducting the interrogation. This was unusual enough, but then again, a simple fact-finding session being held in front of the full Wizengamot was already an unheard of happening.

"Please tell us, in your own words, with approximate or exact times, everything that happened. If there are parts that you are not personally aware of, let us know who should be asked. We need to get to the bottom of this potentially devastating incident", said Bones.

"Yes Minister Bones. Here is what happened, and I can assure you I have direct knowledge of all this", he said.

On Minister Bones' nod, he continued. "At 6pm, when the guard shift changeover was due to happen, two of the guards who were coming off the shift casually mentioned to their replacements that some of the prisoners seemed to be a bit ore noisy than normal. By this time they were normally quite subdued, partly due to the darkness, and partly because the dementors are more active and take over much of the patrolling once the evening starts".

"We thought nothing of it. It was a little unusual, but did not seem worrying in any real sense. But about an hour or so after the shift change, one of the guards - who was himself somewhat more susceptible to the effects of the dementors, despite our auror badge protections - realised that he was not as affected as he normally got. He came down to my office and informed me, then went back to his station".

"Is he allowed to leave his station like that?", asked a member of the Wizengamot whose name the warden did not know. (He did not know most of them anyway. Representative government was not a concept that the British wizarding world was even remotely familiar with!)

"Yes sir. Each floor has three aurors in each shift, and as long as at least two remain, it is allowed".

He waited a few seconds in case there were any questions - he'd never been in front of, far less addressed, such a large gathering.

"Once he apprised me of the unusual lack of dementors, I decided to take a count. This is actually pretty hard, but it can be done, because the dementors move fairly slowly. The difficult part is counting how many of them are in the part of the castle that they reside in, when they are not patrolling. To the best of my knowledge, no one in the auror corps has ever willingly ventured into that section, and there are huge doors that separate it from the parts that we - guards and criminals alike - inhabit. Still, we had a job to do, and an eight man team went in. Our badges protect us from being attacked, but they don't do much when you're in that hellhole - the very air appears to be made of dementor breath, so bubblehead charms are important. We also have to carry powerful torches to dispel the gloom and keep the beasts physically away."

The audience were suitably impressed. Well, most of them, anyway.

"We discovered that about a quarter of them were no longer present in the castle, which meant that they had slipped out of the door at some point. When they came back and reported this, I posted four people to guard the gate and push back any dementors that attempted to approach it.

And approach it they did. In large numbers - large enough that I had to place four more aurors there to help the four already present, and help them push the dementors back.

By around 8pm, the number of dementors wanting to get out from the gate had dwindled - clearly they were learning their lessons. Or so we thought. And so I reduced the front gate watch to two aurors, sending the remaining six back on patrol. I cancelled or cut down everyone's break time (ready room time) in light of this unusual situation."

He paused, ostensibly to take a sip of water, but it was clear to Minister Bones and some of the others close by that he was getting more nervous. Something was up.

"At this point, the guards on all the floors reported a conspicuous lack of dementors all over the prison - all four floors that is. This got me seriously worried and I sent the first of my patronus messages to the DMLE office here in the ministry. But because this did not fit any of the criteria for a red alert, the message may have been in someone's queue for some time. I have no idea how long it was before someone saw it."

"Why was it not a red alert situation?", asked the same member who had asked the previous question.

"We have specific definitions for what constitutes a red alert, and all of them have to do with _prisoners_ escaping. None of our process manuals say anything about _dementors_ leaving us".

"All the more reason you should have reacted with more urgency, Warden", said the member.

Bones felt she had to step in. Affero Crimen was always butting in like this, quick to give blame to anyone in any debate. "That is a matter of opinion, Mr Crimen. And since our manuals don't appear to encourage such independent thought, Mr Cautor is blameless. Mr Cautor, please continue", she nodded at him.

Grateful for the reprieve, the warden used this temporary boost in his confidence to get past the part of his report that was causing his nervousness, before he either lost his nerve again, or someone else made any accusations about his reaction to this.

"By 10pm, it was clear that all the dementors had effectively abandoned their stations, and since the gate was now under constant watch, they must have all decided to, basically, 'go home'", he said.

"So we gathered up nearly all of the aurors in the castle, leaving a handful to guard the front gate, and once again braved the rear part of the castle. We soon found out that there were now no dementors in the area. None. Not even one."

"How could that happen, Warden", asked Minister Bones herself this time. Many others nodded their heads; it was certainly curious.

The warden grimaced. He wasn't sure if this group of people were the "shoot the messenger" types or not, but there was no turning back now.

"We ventured deeper and deeper into that section looking for them. Eventually it led to a door, and that door to a passage which curved around a bit. At the end of that passage was a door. A door which opened out to the front of the fortress, just a few dozen feet from the main gate we all know. I have never seen, or even heard of, this door, and I don't even know if the plans for the fortress show it, but it is there". He hung his head a second or two, even though this was not really his fault.

"So where do you think they would have gone and how much of a head start did they have?", asked Minister Bones.

"I do not know, Minister", said the warden.

(There was a monumental error being made here. Due to the shock value of this event, people weren't thinking straight, but if they were, they would have immediately sent a specialist auror team, and one of them would have quickly found portkey traces, and at least been able to pinpoint the general location where the portkey led, even if not the precise location. By now, though, the portkey traces would have dissipated, so even if someone thought of it now, Sirius was safe.)

"So at this point, we have no idea where they went, whose orders they are following, or even where they might strike. We have no way of tracking them, either. Our communities are basically sitting ducks", she said angrily.

The mood was sombre; even the most diehard pureblood had cause to hate these creatures. Sure, Voldemort had some control over them but the questionable merits of that were moot, since Voldemort was now dead.

It was not even clear what was the worse danger: a group of dementors "gone rogue", or the same group under the command of another Voldemort wannabe.

Amelia glanced around the room, noting the expressions on everyone's face. She paused briefly at one face, but did not call him out, choosing instead to merely move on. Time enough to catch a hold of him after the session.

 **1988-09-19 11:00 UTC, Minister's private office, Ministry of Magic**

"Good morning, Amelia, what can I do for you?", asked Sirius. He had been asked to meet the Minister in her office shortly after the Wizengamot session was over. While she not the autocratic type, traditionally a request from the minister was closer to a summons - you had to respect the position, if not the person, but it helped Sirius in this case that he respected the person also.

She bade him sit down, and offered him a cup of tea. They made pleasant conversation until the tea was half-done, then she got down to business.

"What do you know of the missing dementors?", she asked him.

He wasn't a Black for nothing, even if he did not get into Slytherin. With just the right amount of shock and surprise on his face, he asked "What?" He didn't even have to fake the shock - he was shocked that she had somehow found him out!

"Come now, Sirius, it is clear you know something about what happened here".

"How is it clear?"

"Look, there was no one in that room who likes those horrid creatures, and most of us know they are hard to control, and the thought of them running wild _or_ under some dark wizard's control is a nightmare for us. The looks on most of those faces reflected that - anger, fear, in some cases close to panic".

He could see where this was going, but did not want to give er any more hints in case he was wrong. He just nodded at her to go on.

" _You_ , on the other hand...", she paused to give him a significant look. "You appeared to be _completely_ unaffected, whereas in reality you, having spent the maximum time in Azkaban among the people in that chamber, should have been almost catatonic with fear".

Sirius was caught in a bind. He definitely could not tell her everything, and telling her only part of the story, or, worse, a made-up one, would be damn near impossible. Her gimlet eye was fixed on him!

"On the contrary, Amelia, I just turn into my animagus form if they're nearby. You already know this". Sirius was very pleased at being able to find a credible escape!

Not long though, sadly!

"That could explain it if you were a selfish git who cared only about himself. You now have your godson and Remus, at the very least. I know _they_ can't turn into some animal form".

Caught on the backfoot again, Sirius decided a bit of name-dropping wouldn't go amiss.

"Aah well, Amelia, what can I say. I gathered from some vague hints from the Phantom that something may happen to the dementors, but he would not say what exactly". Which was true enough, as Hobby never did say what would happen to the dementors.

"So, once again, we are left to be silent, powerless, spectators while he-who-promised-to-trust-me continues to avoid giving me even a semblance of trust".

"Oh Amelia, you're _sulking_. If I were a bit older I'd give you a very personal compliment on how cute you look when you're pouting!", teased Sirius. In truth, she was far older than him, but Sirius had always been able to charm a lady, regardless of age!

"But truth to tell, Amelia, it does not matter. We both know what they did during the last war, and I notice no one would be truly upset if they were indeed eliminated in some manner so why worry?"

"I need to _know_ , Sirius!"

"I'll try and convince the Phantom, next time I see him, to meet you. That's about all I can do".

"I guess that will have to do. What about guarding Azkaban?"

"Why? All the really bad ones were released by Fudge and have been dealt with in some manner or other. The ones who are left there are ordinary criminals, maybe even a murderer or two but not the psychopathic mass-murderers comprising Voldemort's minions."

"Hmm... when you put it that way...", said Amelia slowly, while trying to think of any actual negative implications of this.

"And I have it on good authority that in a few years things would have been so bad the muggle _public_ would have started noticing. Thousands of muggles kissed by these beasts". He shuddered.

"What is this 'good authority'? The Phantom?"

"Yes of course. Didn't we tell you he has access to something like a seer?"

"Yes I vaguely remember something like that. Well, I guess we can't do much now. But tell me this: someone who can destroy dementors... isn't he way too powerful to be trusted in the long term? You know the old saying: power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely!"

"Indeed Amelia, and sometimes the powers of this man astound us. But he has sworn that he is only here to protect my godson. Oh... and here's another tidbit of information for you", said Sirius, praying to all the gods in heaven that Hobby would not murder him for this.

"The dementors were corralled magically, but their destruction was, I have very good reason to believe, done by **muggle** means", he smirked at her.

Amelia was shocked. This put a completely different slant on the whole thing. If muggles could destroy beings that no magical - including, it would now seem, the redoubtable 'Phantom' - could, perhaps it was a good thing the more bigoted purebloods were being gradually neutered. This would bear thinking.

"And he also thinks something similar will happen with the giants. Actually, the prediction was that giants _and_ werewolves would be problems, but in the latter case only if Greyback was alive when Voldemort returns, and since Greyback is de-"

He was interrupted by a shrill scream, and he immediately knew he had put his foot in it.

" **Voldemort returns?** ", Amelia screamed like a banshee.

Thank god Amelia herself had cast a silencing charm when they had entered, otherwise there was no telling how many people outside the Minister's private office may have heard her!


	37. Chapter 37: Plans and a reconnaissance

Chapter 37: Plans and a reconnaisance

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** AN: OK I lied; some names are _not_ randomly chosen :)

 **1988-09-20 09:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

It had all started innocuously enough. Rowan Keele was a young auror who was beginning to make a name for himself as a bit of a brown-noser - a fitting replacement for John Dawlish when that (un?)worthy eventually retired (Dawlish was not the kind of auror who would ever be killed in action, so there was no danger of that!)

Auror Keele had been in the auror contingent guarding the Wizengamot chambers, so of course he had heard the entire story. He had decided to go and meet Minister Bones - cutting through at least 3 layers of the hierarchy - and impress her with his enthusiasm, initiative, and commitment, by approaching her with an idea for how to find and re-capture the missing dementors.

His idea was pretty far-fetched, though on the face of it it had some merit. He was going to suggest that the unspeakables should be asked to invent a charm that maps out temperature across a wide area. Then, on a reasonably warm day, they should run this charm in sweeps across the land, looking for "cold spots".

We will never know how this idea would have been received, because several events - each one pretty minor by itself - conspired to make this a moot point, and gave him a different avenue for his brown-nosing instincts. (Besides, there was a very good chance that Minister Bones would see right through his sycophancy and send him packing with a flea in his ear, so maybe this was for the best!)

The first event in this little chain was that Minister Bones's secretary, a young woman called Selma Kasbek, had stepped out to "powder her nose". Normally, she would be back within a few minutes, and thus did not worry too much about informing Minister Bones. In any case, Minister Bones was a nice person who did not get annoyed by little things like that. But this time she took a lot longer, and was pretty much away from her desk outside Minister Bones' office for the better part of twenty minutes.

(Curiously, the reason she was out so long **was** connected to the dementors' disappearance. While powdering her nose, she ran into her friend Marie Kinsey, who appeared to be in an absolutely great mood. Marie's husband Jason was one of the aurors on Azkaban, and he was on shore leave last night. The euphoria of never having to be near a dementor again was enough to put young Jason on a "high", and Marie and he had "celebrated" long and (occasionally) loud. Naturally, it fell to Selma, as her best friend, to tease her about it, and when a few other friends landed up, to continue to make her friend blush and giggle.)

The second thing that happened was that Auror Keele chose precisely this time to come to Minister Bones' office with his idea, and decided to wait for the secretary. Normally, people wait a few minutes, then they would either leave, or - if they felt brave enough - knock on the minister's inner office door anyway. Keele did neither, choosing instead to wait.

The third thing was that Amelia, from force of habit, used the wrong silencing charm when Sirius entered her office.

Amelia had two versions of the silencing charm. The first, which was most often used, included her outer office so that her secretary could her hear floo or other conversations and - like a good secretary - bring her the appropriate files or some relevant information, without being asked. The other, less often used, excluded her outer office, and her secretary's desk, entirely.

Today, however, Amelia was distracted by the Wizengamot session, her observation of Sirius's behaviour and its implications, and the need to get to the truth, and so on, so she had absent-mindedly used the more common version. Sirius only noted that she had silencing spells, and did not realise the scope of the spell.

The end result was that our young brown-noser was fascinated by what he could hear going on inside, and the incredible things he was now privy to.

The dementors had been destroyed.

It was the Phantom that had destroyed them.

But he had used muggle methods to do so.

The Phantom had access to a seer.

And oh by the way, you-know-who would be back. Auror Keele was not a brave man, and only his fear of being discovered made him bite his tongue and suppress his own scream echoing Minister Bones' shriek.

In any case, he ran from that office, not knowing what to do or where to go. He would have to think about this.

* * *

 **1988-09-25 22:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Dumbledore was in a royal snit. It seemed the Phantom was not only far more powerful than they had ever imagined, but he had a seer giving him advice, _and_ was not averse to using muggle methods to destroy magical beings if needed.

It had been pure luck that he had even found out. Dedalus had a second cousin, a much younger man, who was in the auror corps, and who had approached him at some point a few days ago. He had overheard a conversation this morning, where he had found out certain facts that sounded incredible. He was unwilling to provide details of who and when, though, which meant that Dedalus did not believe him, and sent him away.

Only today, more than five days after that, did he (Dedalus) think to mention this to Albus. While casually making small talk after an excellent dinner (and Lonsy's coffee), the conversation had died down, and - almost as if it was a joke - Dedalus said something that literally woke Dumbledore from his torpid state.

It be fair, Albus was not at all sure this wasn't some joke, but he had no intention of taking a chance, especially with the last comment. That someone else had figured out Voldemort would be back was a huge problem for him, and with the kind of reputation the Phantom was building up, he may attempt to defeat Voldemort and steal his thunder. Of course, Dumbledore did not believe in fanciful things like prophecies, but the horcrux in Harry's head was real enough, and needed to be dealt with.

So it took a while to convince Dedalus that this was probably not a joke. Then he had to make a floo call to his cousin Keele.

Keele, still smarting from Dedalus's refusal to believe him, and frustrated at having no other outlet for his momentous news (he was just smart enough to realise that going to the papers with it would not end well for him), initially refused to come. It was only by dangling the carrot that such a great man as Albus Dumbledore himself was interested in what he had heard, that Rowan could be cajoled into floo-ing in. Dumbledore's star may be on the wane, but he was still a "star" for all that, and Keele was happy to oblige.

And Dumbledore was a past master at soothing ruffled feathers, especially if the person did not want much more than that anyway. Keele and Dumbledore got on like a house on fire.

Whether either of them realised that the other was playing up the bonhomie, we will probably never know, but Dumbledore managed to convince Keele to give up a pensieve memory of the conversation as he had heard it. Bottling it up for a more detailed examination later, Dumbledore said his goodbyes and left.

Now, back in his quarters at Hogwarts, it was clear that this was all true, at least from Sirius's point of view, and that Amelia believed him.

And that was what led to his current state of intense anger and frustration.

The old Dumbledore would have rushed into this; he would have summoned Sirius and Amelia, made them tell him everything, and then told them to leave everything to him or whatever. Probably obliviated both of them, quite casually, if required.

But this one had been burned. Several times. Amelia was not to be trifled with, and Sirius had shown several times that he was no pushover either. In fact, if it wasn't for the "Voldemort returns" part, he _may_ have concluded that this was an elaborate prank on him, being planned by Sirius and his cohorts.

But that part was too close to the truth. And Amelia was no spring chicken; she'd suss out pretty quickly that Voldemort must have created a horcrux.

In fact, even if she merely _suspected_ that right now, his nosing around trying to get more information from them would confirm it in her opinion.

 _What to do... what to do..._ , he mused. For the first time in decades, this arrogant, I-know-what's-best-for-everyone, wizard, was not sure what his next steps were.

One thing he was sure of. He had better not use this information too soon - in case they made the connection to the leak, however improbable it actually was. Best to use it at a time when nothing remotely connected to it had happened recently, so they would not know how he found out.

* * *

 **1989-04-03 23:00 UTC, location unknown**

It had been more than six months since the dementors had been destroyed. Of course, other than Amelia Bones, the minister for magic, no one else outside our little band appeared to know this - the rest of the wizarding world thought they were hiding somewhere, biding their time.

It seemed to _still_ be in the news, off and on. Whether that was because it was really such a big deal to the lay wizard and witch, or because things had been so quiet that the Prophet could not find anything else to talk about, no one could say. _Most likely the latter_ , growsed Hobby.

He and his friends had discussed this - whether something should be done, and if so, what. It wasn't much of a discussion - they couldn't very well come right out and say "oh yeah those dementors? We killed 'em all. Anyway, how about those Harpies huh? Awesome game last night!"

Nope; any which way you cut it, this was best kept a secret. But that did lead to something else, namely, "what now?"

"What now? I don't know - there aren't many death eaters left!", said Sirius.

"True", said Remus. "Who's left now, by the way, Hobby?"

"As far as I can tell, Alecto Carrow is in Azkaban. Her stint as cheer leader for the dementor delivery game seems to have had an adverse effect on her though; when I left her back in her cell she was completely catatonic and almost appeared to be kissed, though we know she was not", said Hobby.

Turning to Sirius, he asked a question. "I know this will sound silly and thoroughly naive of me, but does Azkaban have a resident healer, or at least someone who visits periodically?"

" _Resident healer_? You must be _joking_!", said Sirius. "Why would any self-respecting healer elect to work under those conditions?"

"So what happens if a non-life-term prisoner fell ill?"

"If he was not a lifer, he's not dangerous. They'd probably put an auror guard on him and send him to St Mungos. There's a separate, albeit small, wing there for prisoner treatment, with wards that prevent apparation out and so on. I don't know more though; I was, of course, not privileged to be even remotely considered for that kind of stuff", he said darkly. To some extent it still rankled, and only the thought that all but one of the main perpetrators behind his illegal imprisonment were now dead, helped.

"OK fine, Alecto is almost dead. Who else is out _here_?"

"Flint senior is around. I see him occasionally at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, either coming in or going out", said Hobby.

"What were _you_ doing there?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know", Hobby smirked back at Sirius. "Anyway, Flint senior, Nott, Parkinson, Busltrode, Crabbe, Goyle. I think that's it."

"But we don't want to simply destroy them the way we did the others?"

"Nott and Flint, we could. Real bad apples, both. Crabbe and Goyle are more misguided muscle than considered maliciousness. Leave them alone. Parkinson and Bulstrode I am not sure of".

"So, if we can't do much for the death-eaters, or at least there's no immediate need to, what about the horcruxes?"

"Well, there's Ravenclaw's diadem, which is in Hogwarts, in a special room that the elves call 'the come-and-go room', but we called it the 'room of requirements', back in my fifth year", said Hobby. "I could easily go there and get that diadem, I just have to pick a day when Dumbledore is distracted. I have no idea what kinds of alarms he has on the castle in general - we never could figure out how he always seemed to know things he shouldn't have".

"Probably a mix of charms and spying. Ghosts, paintings, maybe even elves. For instance, if you went there, and an elf on cleaning duty saw you, would he or she raise an alarm? We don't really know".

"Not sure. But I'm not too worried - the window of opportunity is too small. It would have been a bigger problem if I could not directly apparate to that seventh floor corridor, but had to walk all the way from the front gates, though."

"OK, why don't you get it now?", said Nick. "We can meet back at the field where we used fiendfyre last time, and finish it off".

"Or do you want to wait till you get the ring also?", asked Penny.

Hobby suddenly remembered what that ring actually was supposed to be, or at least the stone in it.

"Umm, Nick, Penny...", he started. They looked at him expectantly.

"How much do you know about the deathly hallows?", he asked.

"They're a myth. The Peverell brothers were just pandering to the public's need for such stories, so they made up this whole thing and eventually it became a 'fact'".

"But you're sure it's not? Dumbledore clearly believed it, and a lot of his mis-steps were because he desperately wanted the resurrection stone."

"We're very sure, Hobby. We never researched the hallows ourselves, but we had a very good friend who had made a career out of figuring out how much of our popular mythology was true and how much was not. Mikkel Davidson was pretty good at it, and we trust his analysis. It was all a big prank perpetrated by the Peverell brothers".

"I mean", he continued. "Don't get me wrong. The individual items did have their powers; it's just the combined power that was a rumour".

"I've never heard of this guy", said Remus.

"A few years before your time, Remus. You're forgetting how old we are", grinned Nick.

Remus looked at him as if for the first time, quickly switched to Penny, and said "Well can you blame me?", and winked flirtatiously at her.

They all laughed out loud at this. "You've been spending too much time with Sirius", said Nick.

Hobby waited for the laughter to die down, and - very reluctantly - moved the conversation back to the important stuff.

"This makes it a lot easier. Of all the horcruxes, the ring was the most dangerous to get a hold of. Well...", he looked apologetically at Sirius, "since we know that Regulus got the locket out".

"This one", he continued, "pretty much killed Dumbledore. He could not resist the compulsion charm on it and when he wore it, he was hit by a withering curse. Snape gave him some potions to slow down the spread, but that only bought him a few months."

Sirius was looking a little worried. "If Dumbledore could not resist it, that must have been incredibly powerful. How are we going to get it out?"

"Well, I suspect it was worse for him because he was convinced it was the resurrection stone. People who know it is not, or know that there is no such thing, will fare better I'm sure; don't worry!", said Hobby.

"So what's the plan?"

"I'll go in broad daylight tomorrow and do a bit of reconnaissance, then we'll decide".

"What's the deal with 'broad daylight'? Not that I'm complaining!", asked Remus.

"No idea. Just being careful, I guess. The muggles don't go anywhere near there, and neither do wizarding folk, so there's certainly no need to hide from the outside world there. It's the protections it has that, from Dumbledore's description, are dangerous, and some of those things abhor the light. Literally! I picked 11 am tomorrow as the best time to go".

"But why go alone? We're coming with you", said Sirius.

Hobby shook his head. "I am sure there are death traps there for any wizard, and I am equally sure some or all of them will need a parselmouth to overcome. Dumbledore did not tell me what he encountered but it was pretty bad, and must have weakened or injured him quite a bit for him to succumb to the compulsion that Riddle placed on the ring."

"And you can resist that compulsion?"

"I have always been able to resist the imperius, even as a fourteen-year old Harry. Now...", he just shrugged. He doubted if any compulsion would be able to snare him.

"Still, wouldn't you prefer having some backup, even if from a distance?", asked Nick.

"You know, Riddle always ignored elves. I'm willing to bet that place has **no** defenses against elf-magic", grinned Hobby.

* * *

 **1989-04-04 11:12 UTC, Hogwarts, headmaster's office**

Dumbledore ran back into his office full pelt. He had been working on some ICW papers since 7am, and had left his office to stretch his legs and walk around for a bit. He had barely closed the door and gone down a few steps when the unfamiliar, unexpected, but feared, sound warbled from his office - one of the traps he had laid for Tom's wraith had been disturbed.

Knowing that Tom would be back - the Phantom's seer was only a confirmation of a long-held suspicion, for him - he had reasoned that Tom must have made horcruxes, and hidden them away in various places.

He dared not search for them himself, in case there were any traps, but he could lay his own warning wards on top of whatever wards existed. He had thus started out to place them at three places - the old Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, the Gaunt's old house, now a derelict, abandoned, structure, and Wool's Orphanage. But some legilimancy of the staff there had also revealed that Tom was very fond of a particular cave on the coast, so - after some difficulty in obtaining enough information to be sure - he planted one on the coast closest to the cave.

He had not been sure what kind of warnings to place. They needed to leave the intruder alone, and not even give him a hint that a warning had been triggered, the better to catch Tom by surprise. Yet they could not be focused only on Tom; after all, if Pettigrew was a rat, who knew what capabilities his other minions had. Who even knew what they were - he would not put it past Tom to send a vampire into that area to check things out. At a pinch, even a zombie could be directed, at least to do simple things.

So he had to lay the most general purpose, "anything magical" warning ward. And one of those four had triggered. Someone, or something was there.

"Fawkes!", he called out. Fawkes was on him in an instant, and he told her "out of Hogwarts, please; after that I need to go alone. You are too close to a burining day to risk you."

* * *

 **1989-04-04 11:00 UTC, Riddle manor, Little Hangleton**

Just a few minutes before that, Hobby had landed in front of the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton.

Carefully, moving as slowly and as quietly as he could, Hobby approached the boundary. He kept a weather eye on the approach road, as well as the sides of the house. There was nothing there, as far as he knew, but no harm making sure.

Eventually, he found what looked felt like serious wards just a foot or two ahead - not just the usual muggle repellent wards, but something much more sinister.

Slowly, Hobby approached the ward boundary. As he came near, he could feel the tingle of the magic increasing, the small hairs on his skin were rising, and he found himself suddenly questioning his entire mission, his purpose and reasons.

He shook himself free. He had not been concentrating on his persona. He took a few moments to calm down, and then he focused on suppressing his wizard persona as much as he could. If asked, he would be hard-pressed to define or even describe what that meant - it was more intuited than learned - but now he was as much a house-elf as he could be.

Like magic, the compulsion disappeared almost completely. That did not mean the ward was not dangerous in and of itself, but he at least did not have to deal with the strong repulsion aspect of it.

He took one step forward, only to be thrown back several feet. No sound, no flash of light, nothing to say what actually happened. He hadn't even felt anything. Just... one moment he was there, the next, he was twenty feet behind his previous position, sitting up groggily.

Only to find Albus Dumbledore staring at him from just a few inches away, a look of utter shock on his face. Despite that, however, the old wizard quickly laid a body-bind on the elf.

"I did not realise Tom used elves, my little friend", he said, "but now that you have seen me, you cannot be allowed to escape with your memories intact. I cannot have him realise I am on to him. I'm sorry, but I will have to remove your memories of the last few minutes, then force you into the hostile ward. Better he think you ran afoul of one his own protections than- **AARGH**!"

The elf had shaken off the binding with a tremendous effort and blasted Dumbledore even further back, away from the Manor, before popping away.


	38. Chapter 38: Scouting the shack and

Chapter 38: Scouting the shack and baiting the bee

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1989-04-04 17:00 UTC, location unknown**

Hobby of course popped straight to Nick and Penny's home. He was still somewhat dazed, but on the whole, it wasn't too bad. Breaking the body bind with elf magic had worked, but had taken a lot out of him, and that had come from his wizard side. As Nick had explained way back in the beginning of his adventures here, his wizard side was basically feeding magic to his elf side.

Nick let Penny assure herself that Hobby was mostly OK, just winded, and then he changed his concerned expression to a smirk.

"Looks like that place did have defences against elves, huh?"

"No. Well, not defences, and definitely not from Voldemort."

The two marauders were also there, and it took only a few seconds for them to catch on.

"Let me guess: Dumbledore added a ward for any and all magic? And you tripped it somehow, and got blasted away?"

"Well, not quite. Dumbledore only added a _warning_ ward - all it could do, and did do, was send him a warning that some magic was being used here".

He took another sip of water.

"And so he landed up there - no idea when exactly. I was concentrating on my elf persona, because the wizard one was getting a very strong compulsion to just go away - so strong that I could not resist it. But Dumbledore apparently could, because he was well past the point where I was forced to suppress my wizard persona when he caught up with me. Man that guy is powerful!"

"But...?", said Remus, sensing something more was coming.

"But because he is indeed so powerful, he constantly, consistently, underestimates other people. He assumed nothing would be able to touch him, and so ended up triggering the first layer of defence - a violent pushback to a position about twenty feet away. I suspect the target would have been one of the rocks surrounding the property haphazardly - hit it at the right speed and inclination, and you'd probably die.", said Hobby.

"So, to be precise, you're saying-"

"-I tripped **Dumbledore's** warning ward, and he tripped **Voldemort's** defensive ward. And somehow - maybe because I was closer? physically smaller? not expecting it? - whatever the reason, I got hit harder and thrown further."

"Oh and one more thing", he continued. "Dumbledore thinks I am Voldemort's elf".

"What!", exclaimed Sirius. "What made him think that Riddle would even _have_ elves?"

"Who knows how his brain works? Although why wouldn't Riddle have elves? All the purebloods he rules over do - and it's a matter of prestige how many you have and how servile they are - so why would he not do the same, and even up the ante over his minions?"

There was a short spell of silence at that; no one really had an answer. Sure it was well known that Voldemort thought elves were vermin or some such low-life, but he had definitely countenanced all his followers having them.

"I think Dumbledore realised that he tripped Voldemort's ward, could see that you were closer but did not trip it, and just drew the wrong conclusion", said Penny after a few moments of thought.

Hobby looked at her askance. "You know, that's very likely the right answer! He would not imagine that a lowly elf could get past a ward that he himself could not bypass, therefore the elf must belong to Voldemort".

"Hey Hobby, didn't you tell Dumbles, when we warned him off legilimencing the kids, that he could call you if he wanted to talk to the Phantom? Now you'll not be able to go to him if he calls!", said Sirius.

"I never told him the elf would appear. I told him he could call the elf, but the elf would convey the message to his master and his master would appear!"

"Oh very nice. I wonder, though, if he will get suspicious after some time, and realise that you and the Phantom-". He paused reflectively, then, "naah, way too out of this world there; no wizard in his right mind would imagine that."

"With reason, Sirius", said Nick. "This is actually impossible, and in this special case only happened because of something totally, as you put it, 'out of this world'!"

* * *

After Hobby had recovered, they had a light dinner before they split. Sirius went back to Kithurst Close, Remus to his flat and his work (even if it was a bit late, he felt he could get some paperwork done in peace and quiet), and Hobby went off to his bedroom to rest some more, and maybe even get to bed early. Tomorrow they would have to discuss next steps.

* * *

 **1989-04-05 10:00 UTC, location unknown**

"I wish we had Bill Weasley here", muttered Hobby, more to himself than out loud. Then, seeing the question in the others' eyes, he said "Arthur's Weasley's eldest. Curse-breaker for Gringotts at the time I joined Hogwarts. Very cool guy, very capable too. He's in his final year at Hogwarts right now, so... not yet!"

Nick smiled at his little friend. "Well, neither Penny nor I have ever done any curse breaking, but we can guess much of what's required, naturally. And while we may not be able to break the curses, we should at least be able to reconnoitre in relative safety and come back and discuss how to attack them."

They started making preparations - no time like the present - with the help of Sirius and Hobby. Hobby gave them the general layout, while Sirius called Kreacher and asked him to get as many books on obscure dark curses as he could from the Black library. For, despite their actual age, and consequent wisdom, the Flamels had mostly stayed away from dark magic. In many ways they had led a somewhat charmed life, and very likely Hobby had brought more excitement - and danger - to their lives than they had ever seen in the last couple of centuries.

Penny and Sirius set about classifying the books and the curses within them, discarding those that did not appear to be very amenable to adding into a ward. For example, spells that needed to be aimed properly were probably not much good, except in doorways and such. Wide area spells were more likely to be of use here.

Over the next few days, they had a decent list, and they started to plan for the actual trip to the shack.

But there was one problem. Dumbledore needed to be distracted so he would not land up again and make a mess of things.

Luckily for them, they had a well-wisher, so Sirius set about to charm her into helping. They had to discuss in detail how far he could go in informing her of the necessity, and what information was sacrosanct and could not be revealed at any cost.

* * *

 **1989-04-06 17:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

"Good evening, Minerva! I trust you are well?", said Sirius as he entered her office.

She rose to greet him warmly, allowing him to take her hands in his and clasp them. "Thank you for not calling me Minnie!", she smiled back. Honestly, she didn't mind it, but it was a running joke and a matter of teasing between them, ever since the days - was it already three years ago - that he had started teasing her with that nickname.

They sat down, she behind her modest but clean and uncluttered desk, he in a chair in front. "I feel like I'm back in detention. Or at least discussing it!", he said, laughing. "Might go the other way and start calling you 'professor' again. 'Professor Minnie' - that's a nice name!"

She smiled, while making up a tea set and pouring two cups. "Now that you brought it up, let me say that I do have a couple of students coming in just for that kind of discussion in thirty minutes, so - while I do enjoy the banter - you need to tell me what's the matter".

Minerva was not quite as close to Harry and Sirius as her friend Amelia was, due to Sirius being in the auror corps in days gone by, and more recent events throwing them together. Nor was she even as close as Augusta - due to the Phantom's actions against the Lestranges and Crouch junior, and said Phantom's closeness to Harry - Augusta had been warming to Sirius and Remus (though she had yet to agree to visit them in their muggle residence).

But she was still close enough to be kept abreast of the unusual family's life events. She had not gone to them when the kidnapping had happened, but that was because the problem was resolved even before she had heard of it. She had gone to visit later, as a gesture of her friendship and - though she would not admit it - her love, somewhat like that of a slightly distant aunt, for Sirius and Remus. Besides, Lily and James were some of her favourite students, and Harry had enough troubles looming that she wanted to make sure he understood she was on his side. As much as a child at that age could understand that, anyway.

"Well, the short version is this: we need Dumbledore kept away from his office for a good two to three hours, anytime during the daytime over the next few days."

She was quite surprised to hear that, drawing, naturally, a somewhat wrong conclusion. Sirius realised that, and hastened to explain.

"Oh no, I want nothing to do with his office, and neither I nor Remus will be anywhere near here. What we want to do is make sure _he_... well let me explain from the beginning", he said.

She nodded.

"There are a lot of things I am not permitted to tell you, for most of those secrets are not mine to tell. But one thing that affects all of us, and - at least to people I trust - I have insisted on the right to inform them, is this: Voldemort is not dead."

Luckily, Minerva did not have the knee-jerk reaction - fear - that that name appeared to bring to most wizarding folk. She was well known as a formidable fighter in her own right, not just as Dumbledore's deputy and a transfiguration master. Sirius did not really know how much of a part she had played in the last war - it was certainly not overt - but it was suspected she had some hand in some of the wins the light side had had, though in what precise manner, was unknown.

"Dumbledore always reminded us that no body was found".

"Precisely. Much as I am wary of Dumbledore's intentions, even morality, and do not agree with him on so many things, in this matter we are in full agreement!"

" _We_?", she questioned.

"Well, mostly just Remus, myself, and... umm, don't take this the wrong way, but the Phantom".

"Why would I take it the wrong way. Augusta has nothing but praise for him", she smiled.

"So anyway, there is an artefact, hidden in a property that Voldemort owns - probably inherited from his muggle father - that we need to retrieve and destroy", said Sirius. (The muggle father bit was misdirection, in case this leaked it would lead to the wrong place).

"Dumbledore has known of the possibility that such an artefact exists, ever since Halloween 1981, but he has not done anything about it. Worse, he has added his own warning wards to the place, in order to catch - and presumably stop - anyone else from doing something about it", said Sirius heatedly.

"The bloo-", she caught herself in time. "Why?", she asked instead.

"Who knows? I suspect he thinks any attempt to retrieve the item would warn Voldemort and hasten his resurrection, or whatever it is is the next step in the so-called Dark Lord's game plan. Though how long he thinks that stalemate will continue, is not clear. **We** , however, have Harry to think of, and we're **not** going to sit on our arses waiting for the bad guys to take the first step!"

He had no reason to like Dumbledore, as was well known anyway, so he did not feel any reluctance to be upfront about his opinion of Dumbledore's possible motives.

"Sounds plausible. I suppose the warning is tied to some artefact in his office, and you want to make sure he does not see it in time?"

"Or at all. I believe - and again I can't tell you how I know - but once the intrusion passes, the artefact reverts to its quiet state, with not even a hint that you had missed an alarm, so to speak. A flawed design, of course, but that's Albus - brilliant, but flawed."

"When do you want to do this?"

"When would cause the least amount of suspicion?"

"Well, there is the quidditch final on Saturday afternoon. At 1 pm - directly after lunch. He does not attend all the matches, but the final he has never missed. And then, this is Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw - both houses have good teams and it's bound to be exciting".

"Has he been spending more time in his office these days?"

"Now that you mention it, I think he has. I can't be sure but it feels like it".

"Then he might, this time, skip the match. You'll need to figure out some way to make sure he attends, and signal me. Equally important, if he insists on staying in his office, you need to let me know too", he said. Then he sighed. "Sometimes I regret that he lost his other two positions", he said wryly. "This would have been much easier done during a Wizengamot meeting or an ICW shindig!"

She nodded. It was true that Albus was spending a lot more time in the school than he used to. That gave her an idea. "He has been spending all his time cooped up in the office; if he does not attend the match I will remind him this is his only job now, and if the head cannot attend the final I will - under my authority - cancel it, citing that the head has no time for school matters".

"Can you do that? I mean legally?"

She shrugged. "Not sure; it's a bit of a gray area when the head is merely unwilling, not unable, to do the job. But don't worry - he won't let it get to resolution; the threat is good enough".

"However", she continued, "he must not know that you are here, and we have met. That will certainly set him thinking, and I don't want him making any connections. I am glad you came by my flue; you should leave the same way. Now, before my students arrive".

* * *

 **1989-04-08 13:10 UTC, Gaunt shack, Little Hangleton**

Just after 1pm the next Saturday, as arranged, Sirius got a patronus message from Minerva, saying "the bumblebee has been forced to accompany the tabby". Looks like she we slowly picking up a sense of humour of her own!

Nick and Penny, getting a nod from Sirius, immediately portkeyed to the Gaunt shack.

They went right through the area that Hobby had indicated had Dumbledore's warning wards. They didn't bother disabling them - by the time he went back to his office they'd be long gone.

They then circled carefully around the offensive wards within. Nick took a shrunken broomstick out of his pocket, restored it to normal size, and made a wide circular sweep - staying about 15 feet from the ground all through.

It took them a long time to finish their job here. Voldemort was decidedly a very clever individual, and had left nothing to chance. Every time they thought they saw a chink in the defense, they'd realise shortly after that it was misdirection, and would lead the attacker into a possibly fatal situation very quickly.

All in all, they spent a good hour or more on this; it was coming up on half-past two when they decided to head home, after one final run through, at a slightly lower height, with both together on the broom.

* * *

 **1989-04-08 13:35 UTC, Hogwarts quidditch pitch**

Hobby cursed Charlie Weasley in his mind - possibly the first time he had ever cursed the quidditch skills of a Gryffindor. Barely twenty minutes after the game had started, and the Gryffindor seeker had the snitch in hand.

This was bad. Minerva would not be able to hold off the old goat for anywhere near long enough to give Nick and Penny time.

Worse, they had been very careful to keep Nick and Penny completely hidden all this time, and even Dumbledore had not suspected they were even _in_ Britain. If he caught the signal and went to the Gaunt shack, that would be blown apart too, and a lot of other secrets (such as who had made the imperius potion that got Snape relieved of his Hogwarts position) would become clear. He was not really _worried_ for the Flamel's safety, if it really came down to that, but he could still make things very difficult - he still had enough support to re-open all the deaths that had happened.

He needed a distraction, and it had to be a really big one. Something that would occupy the headmaster for some time. And he had to do this without being able to say anything to Minerva - she was sitting right next to Dumbledore, and a patronus message had very little privacy at the end-point; it was only the message transport that was secure from eavesdropping. So if Sirius said anything to Minerva, Dumbledore would hear it.

He thought quickly. He popped to Sirius, and they planned out what to do.

* * *

 **1989-04-08 13:40 UTC, Hogwarts quidditch pitch**

Minerva blanched when she saw the ghostly shape of a grim approaching her. _He is not supposed to contact me so openly! Does he not realise Albus is sitting right next to me_ , she thought.

Still, there was nothing to be done. The patronus could not be stopped - one reason why it never amounted to much during the war, actually, because it was simply too dangerous to use when people were spying or staking out a place.

Of course, she did not know about Hobby, and that Sirius knew the match was over.

The grim stopped in front of her, and - in Sirius's voice - said "Minerva, I need to see you in your office urgently. It's about Harry's school choices in a couple of years - I'll explain when we meet. A private meeting would be most appreciated".

She gasped in relief. Since he had not mentioned anything about this when they had met only a couple of days ago, clearly this was a ruse of some sort. Feeling more confident, she pulled out her wand, and sent back a patronus "I'll be in my office in five minutes, feel free to floo in anytime after that". She then turned to Dumbledore, and said "I'll see you at dinner, Albus", and turned to walk away.

"Wait Minerva. I will accompany you, with your permission, to your office. I will make no secret of the fact that I am greatly interested in hearing what Sirius has to say".

"Sirius asked for a private meeting, and I intend to honor that, Albus!", she snapped back.

"Nevertheless, anything regarding student admissions is a formal Hogwarts affair, and I have a right to be involved."

"Not when the child is not yet a Hogwarts student, and if you persist in interfering, may never be one", she said calmly.

Dumbledore felt a cold chill run down his spine. He needed Harry here in order to figure out what to do with the scar, test how it reacted to Voldemort's wraith, and only then would he have enough data to determine if Harry could live, or had to die. Harry going to some other school would kill all those plans dead.

He decided to be a little more conciliatory. "Minerva, I promise I will not try to push my views on Sirius, and to only listen to what he has to say", he said.

Minerva stared at him for a good long while, then nodded briefly. Once.

Then she turned around and headed up the path to the school.

* * *

 **1989-04-08 14:15 UTC, Deputy's offices**

They had now been waiting for Sirius for more than 20 minutes. Minerva seemed cool and relaxed, sipping her afternoon tea lazily, while flipping through an old copy of "ACM Transactions in Transfiguration" (ACM was the American College of Magic, which was pretty much **the** place for serious research in most magical subjects. The other one was the IEEE - _Incantations, Elixirs, and Enchantments: Edited_ \- a journal that was a bit younger, and not linked to a specific college or university).

As soon as they had entered her office, she bade Dumbledore make himself comfortable, and indicated she needed to "freshen up" - universal female code for "I need to go to the bathroom". Dumbledore, whatever else he may be, was a perfect gentleman in these matters, and thought nothing of this.

Once she was in her quarters, she silenced the room (unnecessary - Hogwarts did respect the privacy of its staff - but no harm done). Then she sent a patronus to Sirius.

"What are you up to? Albus is waiting in my office; I could not shake him! By the way the match is over!"

Sirius replied a few seconds later.

"I know. Hence the subterfuge to keep Dumbledore in your office, while appearing to _not_ want him there. Go back and I will send a patronus to you which he will also hear".

"OK"

Shortly after she came back, she got a patronus from Sirius.

"Will be there within the next few minutes. Am trying to contact the Phantom, since he also wanted to speak to you, again, privately. As soon as I can find him, we will come by. Don't go anywhere - that man is hard to find, and we may not get another chance to speak to him and take his advice".

That was a rather long message for a patronus, and consequently was spoken very fast. Of course Minerva knew all this was probably nonsense, but now Albus would absolutely not budge from her room in case her visitors came in while he was gone. He was trapped, except he thought _he_ was the one trapping _them_.

And so they waited.

After about ten more minutes, they got another patronus from Sirius. "Deepest apologies, can't make it today. Unable to contact Phantom, but I promise you we will meet at your convenience shortly."

Evidently they had done what they needed to do which needed to be hidden from Albus.

Dumbledore gave a deep sigh, masking a disgruntled look in a sad face, and made his goodbyes. He had wasted too much time waiting for Black, time he could have spent watching for any other intrusions to the Gaunt shack.

No matter, he had tweaked the alarm to require a manual reset after it went off - even if he was too late, he'd at least know if someone had been there.


	39. Chapter 39: Curses! Foiled again!

Chapter 39: Curses! Foiled again!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1989-04-08 14:30 UTC, Headmaster's office**

Dumbledore was livid. He'd walked into his office some time ago, not really expecting to see the alarm tripped - after all, he was only gone a few hours - but there it was, as large as life and twice as natural, the upright red flag on the monitor for the Gaunt shack.

Someone had been there in the last few hours.

While he had been waiting for Black to show up, ostensibly for a private meeting with Minerva.

There was more to this than met the eye, and his quick mind easily put two and two together. He had been duped. Not just by Black, but - very likely - by Minerva also.

He spent a long time pondering this. Was she completely gone? Or was she merely an unwitting accomplice? What would it take to prevent her from guessing Black's machinations, if it were the latter?

No, she was too smart for that. He would have to assume she was seriously compromised. In any case, ever since the pensieve incident, she had been cold to him, so perhaps this was just a natural progression.

Still, it would not do to allow his deputy to so blatantly consort with the enemy. He would speak to her right now and set her to rights - remind her who was the boss in this castle.

Another thought struck him. That elf... it must belong to Black. Or maybe the Phantom? Was that elf the "Hobby" he had been told to call when he wanted to speak to the Phantom?

In any case, time to have it out. He reset the red flag on the ward monitor to its dormant state and left his rooms, heading for Minerva's office. Regardless of the consequences, he would give her a piece of his mind. No more kindly elder statesman persona.

 **1989-04-08 14:30 UTC, location unknown**

Around the same time, our friends were debriefing.

"I'm so glad I kept watch on the match instead of using the opportunity to go and get the diadem", said Hobby. "They always told me that Charlie was the best seeker in the last few years and of course I knew it was true, but I did not realise just _how_ good he was! Anyway, how did your recon go? What did you find?"

Nick looked a little glum. A 600+ year old man should have pretty much seen everything and heard everything and should have a lot more equanimity, but clearly this had rocked his world a little.

"The wards are fiendishly clever. There are **sixteen** of them, spaced evenly around an imaginary circle within the property, overlapping perfectly, so that at any point on that circle there are two wards touching. If you bypass one, you'll hit the other, and there's no way to bypass both at the same time".

"Those sixteen wards are of two kinds, eight of each kind, placed alternating with each other. The incantation and procedure to bypass one kind, triggers the other!", said Penny.

"How did Dumbledore get past it during my time?"

"Oh we can easily overpower them, but our magical signature would show up. He'd know it was us as soon as he came by to investigate; our secret would be out", said Nick.

"It's OK dear, I think it's time we stood up anyway", said Penny with a fond smile on her face.

"No it's not OK, at least this should not be the reason. If you want to stand up, I'd like you to do so on a situation where no one can say you were forced to. So... definitely not this one", said Hobby.

"Besides", he continued. "Wouldn't Voldemort have found out that Dumbledore was after his horcruxes, if he had merely overpowered them? I am positive that did not happen; things would have been very different if something like that had been discovered by Riddle".

This threw the others for a bit, until Sirius asked, somewhat hesitantly, as if he were asking a question he _knew_ was stupid but needed to ask anyway.

"Would a phoenix get past those wards?"

"Bingo", exclaimed Nick. "That's got to be it! It does mean that Riddle forgot that part or discounted it somehow or whatever, but then I don't think Dumbledore had a phoenix at the time he would have made that horcrux, going by what you told me about the timeline".

"OK that explains that mystery, for now. Back to this topic, what if Sirius, me, and the Phantom were to do it together?", asked Remus. "He already knows Sirius is neck deep in this, and the Phantom too."

"He has not yet got a read on the Phantom's signature yet, not a proper, recent, one. Only Amelia has seen me that close, and she has chosen not to bother. Or maybe she has but did not recognise it", said Hobby.

He went on. "But Dumbles knows Harry's signature - young and frail though it may have been. I mean, I'm not 100% sure but sure enough to not risk it. I can suppress it during most activities, but something like that is hard to hide".

They all sat quietly for some time. Then Hobby looked at Nick, and said "Sixteen, huh? So there must be sixteen ward stones?"

"Yes, and each ward stone is within the range of one of the others, at least".

"How deep are they buried?"

"Not much; I estimate 2 to 3 feet".

Hobby looked at Remus. "Know anyone in the quarrying or mining business? Muggle ones I mean"".

Remus looked surprised but nodded. "Not too many of them in the UK, but I might know one or two, through a former client who was a lawyer. What are you thinking of?"

"Sixteen shaped charges, placed just outside the wards, each pointing to one wardstone, and all timed to go off exactly at the same time."

"What is a 'shaped charge'?", asked Sirius. Simultaneously, Remus shouted "Brilliant!", with glee.

Hobby explained briefly, what little he knew. To be honest he only knew what the term obviously meant, not any of the technical details, but that was not necessary anyway.

He'd just finished his explanation, when he went quiet, as if listening to something.

"Dumbledore is calling me", he said. "Of course, as I told him before, the Phantom will go."

 **1989-04-08 15:00 UTC, Hogwarts, Deputy HM's office**

Dumbledore stormed into his deputy's office without even a polite knock on the door. Minerva took one look at his face and knew the game was up. As you might imagine, for someone of her nature, this only raised her hackles even further.

"Minerva, I did not expect this of you", he snarled as soon as he came in. It was amazing to see what the real Dumbledore was like, behind the elder statesman facade he always wore. She did not think he was evil in a broad, general, sense, but he certainly could behave evilly in specific situations, it seemed.

Well, two can play the facade game.

"What precisely is this about?", she asked coldly, with not a jot of the fear, or at least respect, he was expecting.

"You and Black kept me away from my office on purpose, did you not?"

"What on _earth_ are you blathering about Albus? I told you it was a private meeting and you _insisted_ on inviting yourself!"

"Nevertheless, it had the effect of keeping me away from my office and missing an important warning from one of my monitors", he screeched at her.

Her anger rose. "As far as I am concerned you should have been in **your** office, so how in Hades do you think that is _my_ fault. **Your** decision, Albus, so **your** fault". Each time she said "your", she poked him, hard, in the chest with a long, bony finger.

"And in any case, there's nothing wrong with Hogwarts - I didn't hear any alarms, and remember I also have partial control of the wards and internal warnings. So I still don't know what's gotten into you. Maybe I should call Poppy..."

"You know full well this was a monitor for something outside Hogwarts", he said. _Was she really that naive? No... she was having him on!_ , he thought.

"Your _only_ job right now is Hogwarts. Why in blazes would you be monitoring something outside? What is it you are monitoring?"

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that Minerva".

"Well then you can't expect me to care do you? And since I neither know nor care what it is, I can hardly be blamed for keeping **you** " - again the finger poke - "away from it. Now get out of my office, I don't like your attitude", she said. Grabbing his shoulder, she turned him enough to face the door, and gave him a push.

He left without even a look back. He was even more convinced she knew _something_ , but was not sure how much, and he'd be damned if he gave anything more away.

Time to talk to that Phantom.

 **1989-04-08 15:15 UTC, Headmaster's office**

The Phantom popped silently into Dumbledore's office, giving him the shock of his life. He drew his wand immediately.

"How... how... how did you enter this office directly? Even Voldemort cannot do that". He stood threateningly, his wand pointed at the intruder.

"The Elder wand is mine, Dumbledore, have you forgotten? You cannot use it against me", said the Phantom calmly, a hint of mockery in his voice. Completely side-stepping Dumbledore's question of course.

Dumbledore did not budge, he merely pulled out a second wand and pointed it at the Phantom.

"I repeat, how did you enter this office? How did you bypass the wards?"

"Dumbledore, you probably have more secrets than everyone else in this castle put together. You would not answer a straight question if your life depended on it. And yet you expect people to answer your questions?"

Dumbledore stayed silent.

"Anyway, you called me here. What is it you wanted to see me about?"

"You were in the Gaunt shack". A statement, not a question.

"What is the Gaunt shack?", asked Hobby, enjoying the feeling of annoying Dumbledore.

"You know what it is. I saw your elf there", said Dumbledore, hazarding a guess.

"Aah yes, Hobby told me. My young friend likes to go exploring, no idea where he got that from. He said he found an interesting place, but you caused him to be evicted from it before he could find any details."

"Stop bluffing. I will not have anyone remove the item from there until I have ensured that Tom will not find out. I have no idea how _you_ fo-"

"What item are you talking about?" Hobby put on a genuinely puzzled expression on his face. "And what happens if Riddle finds out?"

He kept silent for a beat, then his eyes widened dramatically. _An Oscar worthy performance_ , he thought to himself.

Then, without waiting for Dumbles to respond: "a horcrux? Riddle made a horcrux?", he asked. "Thank you for filling in the blanks for me".

" **You will NOT go anywhere near there nor remove anything from there** ", shouted Dumbledore in extreme anger, fueled more by shock that the secret was so casually deduced than anything else.

If he expected this to scare the Phantom, he was disappointed. The Phantom looked at him calmly for a beat or two, then said: "Why not?"

Dumbledore had to calm down a little, too, since - real or not - his temper seemed to have no effect on this wizard.

"I'm sorry I cannot tell you that", said Dumbledore. "But you **must** do what I say and stay away from that place!"

"I don't answer to you, but I am willing to listen to any reasoned arguments backing up this notion of yours".

Dumbledore sighed. There was always one wizard who thought he knew more than him. Really, all these young whippersnappers...

Since the Phantom had already figured out so much, there was no harm throwing him a bone.

"Any action on the item there would warn Lord Voldemort and move up whatever timetable he has for his resurrection".

"That doesn't sound very likely, unless you are saying he actually _is_ close by. If you are, you need to tell me what you know of his whereabouts."

"I cannot tell you where he is, I myself and not sure. But you do not have to be nearby to place a warning, or more lethal, ward and to listen to it. And I insist that we cannot afford to wake him up".

"Bullshit; allowing others to dictate the timetable is a sure way to lose. Unless you're **actively** doing something else to prepare for his return while you are waiting, you're an idiot. Not just an idiot, but an arrogant idiot who will cause more harm than you can imagine. I can't let you fuck up the world for the sake of your ego."

"You have to listen to me. I am the only wizard who can stand up to him, and I think this is the best way to do this. I **insist** that you do not interfere", growled Dumbledore.

"Aah yes your vaunted power...", said the Phantom, and laid a strong body bind on Dumbledore, from the neck down. "Next time you put a body bind on my elf, remember he gets his power from me, and I am a heck of a lot more powerful than you".

" **How dare y-** , shouted Dumbledore, but the Phantom silenced him. "I can do this to you, in your office, so please mind what you say or do. Going against me is likely to be far more dangerous to you, personally, than going against Voldemort".

And with that, he popped out. Leaving an almost apoplectic Dumbledore unable to get out of the body bind. He was trapped in his own office, with no way to call anyone, because they could not enter without his permission. He finally had to call Fawkes in his mind (thank God that communication did not depend on vocalisation!), and ask him to take him to Filius's office.

If Filius noticed that he had not gone to Minerva, he did not give any sign of it. He'd ask Minerva later.

Dumbledore did not realise that now Filius would be apprised of his behaviour, by a somewhat filtered version from Minerva. This was because his mind was occupied by only one thing: he urgently needed to tie the ward monitors to his wand this time, so he would not be fooled like this again.

 **1989-04-22 14:00 UTC, Headmaster's office**

"Good morning, headmaster", said the dapper French gentleman, with only a hint of an accent.

Mathieu Gaudin was the current Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Dumbledore had never liked him - not just because he was French, though there was a wee bit of that in him - but because he was much more given to making sure everyone knew the facts. Over the past couple of decades, Dumbledore had crossed swords with him on several occasions on this and similar points. Both had their followers, and so, by and large, were even in "wins" and "losses".

Until, of course, March 1986, just over two years ago, when Mathieu suddenly lost his biggest opponent. ICW meetings had never been the same after that. Things went much smoother, and while healthy debate still happened, there was less rancour overall. On matters of really long term importance, it seemed, Dumbledore indeed had been an outlier.

"Good morning, Supreme Mugwump", said Dumbledore, as formally as he himself had been addressed. Inside, he was bristling and squirming at the implied insult - despite how he made himself out to be within the UK, "headmaster" will basically just that, and held no importance to people from outside the UK.

"I thought it would be tactless of me to have this sent to you by the normal channels. Your past years of service to the ICW more than merits that respect from me".

Dumbledore's heart sank. Mathieu was nothing if not fair in his dealings with people, but he made only one exception: Dumbledore. He was sure there was a strong element of gloating or rubbing his nose in something involved here.

"Please do sit down", he said just as smoothly. "Tea?"

Mathieu sat down on the offered chair, but declined the drink, opting for a glass of water instead. Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of his chin and look over his spectacles at his one-time opponent, a mild expression of curiosity on his face.

"The ICW has voted to call you in and question you as to your conduct during the custody hearing of Mr Potter, two years ago", said Mathieu.

 _And you wanted to gloat about it, you little frog_ , thought Dumbledore, occlumency shields firmly in place.

"I see. And why is this coming up now, when it has essentially become ancient history? Might I guess my worthy opponent of many past battles had something to do with it?", he twinkled. This was a game, and he was far older and far smarter than the young upstart ("young" being a relative term, since Mathieu was pushing close to 75 years of age).

Mathieu smiled modestly. "You know, Albus, that if I had done it I would have told you before I started the discussion. I don't stab people in the back".

"True enough", conceded Dumbledore. It was, too. Mathieu would not hesitate to gloat or rub his face in anything that came by, but - even to Dumbledore - he was fair. He'd never hit behind his back.

"So how did this... shall we say, delayed gratification - for whomever it may be - come about?", he asked.

"The fellow from Dagon - Yangon to the muggles - had apparently been caught in some sordid and underhanded dealings with the military junta, at the expense of the rest of the wizarding populace. The junta, however, has a very long arm, and managed to quell any action against him locally. By the rules of the ICW, therefore, we could not do anything to him, since he still had the approval of his home country's magical government".

Dumbledore nodded.

"But someone sent incontrovertible proof of his guilt to the ICW, and we had to at least call him on the mat to explain himself". He did not mention that in the Burmese wizard's case, veritaserum was used.

"At that point", he continued, "a few others raised the very valid point that you had not cleared the air with us. The reputation of the ICW, they said, demanded that we ask you what happened, and your response placed on record."

He paused to take a sip of water.

"Others countered that the British government had dealt with you in its own way, and it was not upto us to interfere in that. I certainly voiced my objection to this - I have no interest in raking up old stories".

Dumbledore nodded again. This he could believe, Mathieu was like that.

"But we were outvoted. I'm actually very surprised - a lot of small countries that seem to have no common factor voted for bringing you in; I am quite at a loss to understand their interest in the matter!"

"Hmm... I wonder what happened. What countries were these?"

"Aah Albus, the proceedings are, as you well know, secret. I have somewhat stretched the definition of what can be revealed to a non-member, but I will assuage my guilt somehow". And he could twinkle his eyes too, as Albus knew, but had forgotten.

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "All right, when is this hearing?"

"Tomorrow, 9am local time in Zurich. We decided to do this on a Sunday, to accommodate your school duties and schedule. I am to deliver a portkey for you to take at 8:55 sharp".

Saying which, Mathieu handed over a blue plastic spoon, of clearly muggle origin.

 **1989-04-23 08:00 UTC, ICW headquarters, Zurich**

Dumbledore settled into his witness seat, comfortably wrapping his robes about him. He did not expect this hearing to last long, and anyway this body had power only over other **governments** not over **individuals**. In fact, he wasn't sure if they had the authority to call him in, but he supposed if he were to ever regain his position, he'd better have his slate clean.

All the members were seated, and the doors were sealed. Traditionally, that is how they would stay till the day's business was concluded, or 1pm local time, whichever was earlier. Lunch was at 1, and if the day's business was not done, they'd reconvene at 2.

The Supreme Mugwump rose.

Dumbledore's wand made a low keening noise, and vibrated harshly in his sleeve. Someone was at the Gaunt shack.

And he could not move for at least four hours. He had no illusions now that this was all stage-managed, and for the first time he felt a chill of fear at the Phantom's reach.

Oh well, it's a good thing he was having the place watched. At least he'd know who else was with the Phantom.

 **1989-04-23 08:00 UTC, location unknown**

Nick picked up the phone.

"You owe me big-time for this, Nick", said a female voice, with a distinct American accent.

Nick grinned. "Four hours?"

"Four hours", confirmed the voice.


	40. Chapter 40: Wards? What wards?

Chapter 40: Wards? What wards?

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** Additional AN: There may be some "Uh! That's not how it's done!" moments for you if you're an expert in explosives or demolition :-)

 **1989-04-23 08:05 UTC, Gaunt shack**

Sirius blessed Dumbledore's habit of not trusting anyone and not telling anyone what he is doing or what he wants done.

He and Nick had apparated there as soon as they got the call from Bathsheba. (It seemed that Dumbledore had been making enemies pretty much all his life, if someone who'd known him almost all his life was willing to screw him over!)

Hobby was already there, having arrived just a few minutes before them. When they arrived, he was making a face - as if he had smelled something bad. And in a couple of seconds it was not Hobby's imagination - there was indeed a horrible smell; a mix of dirty, unwashed clothes, sweat, tobacco, and cheap booze.

"Oh wow", whispered Nick, gagging, then silently putting up a bubblehead.

"Well, with a name like Dung, what else could you expect?", joked Sirius, also in a whisper. Because, really, who else could it be?

But true to form, Dung was asleep. Hobby was gleeful; he thought there was some poetic justice in this. This bastard's negligence had been the cause of all the trouble between fourth and fifth year. And - though he couldn't swear to it - he was pretty sure he had leaked the plans of the "seven Harry Potters" to the death-eaters too, even if it was just by carelessness rather than malice aforethought.

Nick pulled them all behind a silencing charm anyway, just in case the petty thief woke up.

"How do we deal with this? Just stun him and finish off what we need to do?"

Hobby pondered a moment. That would certainly work, but...

"That will only make Dumbles more careful next time, like giving him a pepper-up or something before the stake-out. What we need is to make him lose confidence in this buffoon", he said.

"Won't that simply make him use someone else instead? Someone who is more competent?"

"He doesn't have too many allies who are willing to do this for him. Diggle is probably the only one left, and he was never a 'rough it out in the open' kind of person, so when Dumbledore makes him do things like this, he will resist. He'll question the whole thing, and resent Dumbles for eventually forcing him. And of course we will make sure that absolutely nothing happens when Diggle is watching, confirming his suspicions that Dumbles has gone a bit mad", said Hobby gleefully.

"So... what do we do? Wake him up, obliviate him, and send him away?"

Hobby took some coins out of his pocket, and sprinkled them, a few at a time, on the sleeping thief's face, who consequently woke up with a start. The coins stopped as soon as he woke up, to make sure his attention was on the coins already fallen near him.

Dung picked up all the coins (he even found one that had fallen under a nearby rock), and took himself off. At the kind of dives he frequented, the money he found would last at least a few hours - or at least as much time as Dumbledore himself was trapped at the ICW meeting.

* * *

The muggle explosives were waiting in a large truck a few hundred metres down the road. Remus walked to the end of the road, turned a corner, and waved to the truck driver. The driver put his truck in gear and slowly rolled forward, bringing it up to a pre-designated point (the edge of the muggle repelling wards, which Hobby had previously scoped out).

At that point Remus, Sirius, Hobby, and Nick went up to the truck. They unloaded the sixteen charges carefully, and manually. They were already prepared in all ways, needing only to be oriented properly, and then triggered. All sixteen of them were connected to the same trigger. This was one of the requirements that Hobby had feared would cause them trouble, but it turned out that urban demolition often requires that kind of thing, so - while it was somewhat expensive - it was easy enough to do.

(What _did_ cause problems was the explosives experts refusing to simply give them the stuff and tell them what to do. None of them wanted to attempt disabling the muggle-repellant wards in case they were also booby-trapped - though they very much doubted that Riddle would think that far ahead. Finally, they had to say this was on private property that getting a security clearance for was almost impossible, and it was either this or lose the gig to someone else who would play by their rules.)

By now the truck had turned around and trundled off, the driver completely oblivious to the reality of this strange site at the edge of a small village.

(Later, he would meet with the explosives team. Comparing notes, they would be hard put to think of _who_ could be living there that had a need for such high security. The explosives team had initially thought it was either some part of the royal family, or something similar, but now they were not sure. Eventually they gave it up, though they kept records in case they were questioned later.)

With four of them working in concert, it took no more than about ten minutes to place them all at the correct places. Each charge was pointed toward one wardstone, at precisely the distance required to produce the maximum impact on it.

None of the traps had triggered - there was nothing magical in what they were doing, and the muggle equipment did not even register (it would appear).

They all stepped away from their respective quadrants and moved to Hobby's spot. Remus and Sirius put up powerful shields about a foot apart, while Nick conjured a physical shield, comprised of a six-inch think granite slab, sandwiched between the magical shields. With this protection in place, Hobby hit the trigger.

* * *

It was good thing they had those shields. The explosives fired perfectly, and all sixteen wardstones were smashed to smithereens at precisely the same instant, or at least as near as made no difference. But the destruction of so many ward stones caused a _tremendous_ magical shock wave to rip through the surrounding area, so that all the trees, rocks, and other exposed matter was blasted by the magical shock wave, to a radius of almost a quarter of a kilometer. Luckily, there were no people or dwellings in that range.

Once the dust had settled, Hobby and Nick worked together to see if there were any other harmful wards present, but did not find any. The shack in the middle of the site was already in bad shape, but it was completely fallen down now, with no vertical structures visible.

Neither the front door, nor the snake they had seen nailed to it, could be identified from their position - everything had been flattened - so Nick once again got out a broomstick to get some perspective.

He landed beside Hobby after about ten minutes, having completed a thorough aerial survey. "Looks like it's clear all the way. I didn't detect any magical traps, and you can make out the rough boundaries of the shack and the internal wall separating the two rooms inside. Also the doors, and - if I look carefully - the windows. Where did you say the ring was?"

"On or under the floor", said Hobby. They proceeded slowly and carefully down the now debris-strewn path toward the shack. Since the walls had caved in, they decided to step over a part of the border that would have been a wall, avoiding the doorway itself, just in case there was something they had missed.

Guided by the feeling of something dark and evil, they methodically cleared away the rubble in one small area of what was formerly the front room. Nick decided not to use wizard magic, letting Hobby do it all with elf magic - again, just in case. No point taking chances.

A few minutes later, they encountered what looked like a small trapdoor in the floor. Lifting it revealed a simple wooden box inside, and even without any scans you could feel the taint from it.

Both of them had excellent occlumency, and anyway Hobby had already told them what this did to Dumbledore in his time, so they were prepared. They took the box back to the boundary, and all four of them apparated away.

Shortly after, Hobby came back. He spent a few minutes in the rubble, and, once he was satisfied, he left.

* * *

 **1989-04-23 09:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

No one looked twice at an elf skulking around in Hogwarts - even Dumbledore did not know all the elves. The worst that could have happened would be if he was actually caught by a wizard (yeah right!), _and_ then the wizard called for the head elf of Hogwarts to identify him.

That was too far from reality to worry about. Simply put, no one cared.

Hobby popped to the seventh floor, paced the required three times in front of where the door would appear, walked in, and spent some time looking around, trying to remember where he had seen the bust and the diadem.

After a bit of wandering around, he eventually realised that - once again - a broom was best, so he pulled a shrunken broom out of his pocket, brought it back to its original size, and mounted it. That proved very uncomfortable - he had never ridden a broom as an elf - so he changed to his wizard form, and took off. _Maybe I should name my broom Hero_ , he thought, and grinned to himself. Hermione would get it, eventually. He was sure of that.

After a few careful, methodical, sweeps of the general area he remembered, he found the diadem. Levitating it into the bag he had carried for the purpose, he left the room and then popped off. He would have to come back later to work on the vanishing cabinet - he had suddenly had an idea about how to use that too.

Meanwhile, once he got back to Nick's place, that would be two more down. Only the snake left, and Harry's scar. And no magical solutions to the latter problem, so far. Well, there was still some time to go before that became an issue. The wraith was still just a wraith, and would likely be, for a few years more.

* * *

 **1989-04-23 10:00 UTC, location unknown**

Once the two horcruxes were destroyed, the gang sat down to some serious planning.

"This is a landmark achievement, from my point of view. We've eliminated two of the major problem areas that were not directly related to wizards and witches: the dementors and the horcruxes", said Hobby.

"They're all gone? You never were clear on how many there were", said Remus.

"Well, in my time, his snake was one, but we have no idea when he did that. He doesn't have a snake right now, so maybe he did that at some later point in time?"

"If he did, he could still do it now, and we'd have to destroy it. You don't seem too worried?", asked Sirius.

"It's a snake. I can find it. It's usually with him anyway so at least we don't have to _search_ for it".

Remus was looking at him, and could see something else was wrong.

"Out with it, what's biting you?"

Hobby looked at Penny. She would be the one most likely to curse him when he said what he had to say.

"I'm not sure if all of you know the exact circumstances of my death, so let me tell you what was apparently supposed to happen", he said. "Simply put, I was supposed to get hit by a killing curse from Riddle".

That got the expected reaction - outraged shouts and anger, from at least three members of his audience. Only Nick did not react, instead he was just watching Hobby shrewdly.

"Why?", asked Penny in a clipped tone.

"Would you like to guess", he asked, with a grim set to his face.

Nick moved closer to Penny and put an arm around her, hugging his wife of six centuries to his side. She knew that he knew, and she was at least his intellectual equal. It was only that Nick's involvement in these things was more, while she had spent more time with Harry than being with the other four.

So it only took her a few seconds more. She clapped her hand to her mouth, and looked at Hobby, eyes wide.

"What the heck is going on, can someone please explain to us", pleaded Sirius.

Remus looked at him. "Harry has a horcrux in his head, probably in the scar", he said, looking questioningly at Hobby.

Hobby nodded. "But I have an idea", he said quickly before Sirius could say anything or react in any way.

"It had better be good", growled Sirius, after a few seconds.

"Let's remember why I came back as Dobby. I want to make sure Harry is not affected by any of this while growing up, or at least as little as possible. I intend to make sure that he lives a long life, and old age is the only thing that he would eventually die of", he said.

"But the horcrux in him will always be there, and Riddle will not truly die until Harry does. What I plan is simple: make Riddle irrelevant. Here's my plan", he said.

"There are ways to capture wraiths, but they are not always reliable in the long term. And there are ways to keep a human in stasis for, effectively, forever. Even a simple draught of living death will suffice, as long as no one knows where he is and cannot feed him the antidote. That is what we will do - find some way to make Riddle essentially become a non-entity for the next one hundred and fifty years or so."

He stopped and waited for a response.

Eventually, Nick nodded. "The draught of living death is too risky, in case we are unable to hide the location well enough, or someone actively searches for him. Yes we'd use the Fidelius, of course, but I think I may have a better method. We'll talk about it later, once I have had some time to think it through."

"OK".

"So what does this mean for the war against Riddle? Does it make capturing him more urgent? Less?" Sirius clearly needed more information.

"Well... he can't split his soul any more - he's already lost a lot, and he will go completely insane if he tries it again. I believe even he knows it. So all we need to do is prevent him from growing to full strength - we either get him as a wraith, or in the very early days after he gains a body, if he manages to do that".

"No. No body", shivered Hobby. _There will be not even the remotest chance of someone like Cedric dying this time_ , he thought, while his face hardened. Thankfully, none of the others asked him what this was about, though it seemed that Sirius would ask him later.

"If things go according to plan, he will possess a homunculus at some point, before he tries to obtain a body. Of course, he has - or will have - no followers left to help him with this, so he will be a wraith, possessing someone, willing or otherwise. We have to get him then. Before he possessed humans, I believe he also possessed snakes and other animals - if we can catch him at that, even better."

"We'll work something out Hobby", said Nick.

"We will. Now, I have something else to discuss, of much lesser importance but important nevertheless". He paused to sip some water, and continued. "There is a vanishing cabinet in the room of requirements in Hogwarts. This needs to be repaired, but if it can be repaired, the other end opens up in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. I think, if we repair that, and ward this end somehow to prevent anyone other than us making it back, we have a fantastic weapon in our hands. How we use it is up to us".

"If I remember correctly, this is literally the only such pair in existence; all the others are either lost or were destroyed by someone", said Penny.

"Great! Do you know if it can be transported by elf?"

"I'm sure it can. No one wards against elves! No one _expects_ elves, it seems", she said.

Almost to himself, Hobby mumbled, "what are we, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"So, if I bring it here, can we repair it?", he asked.

"I'd rather you buy the other end first, secure it, and only _then_ get this one", said Nick.

Hobby looked at Sirius. "Would you do the honors? Go to Borgin and buy it off of him - you can threaten him however you want!"

"Where should we put it? I'd rather not have it anywhere the kids could find it". While Harry and Hermione did not visit that often, they did visit sometimes.

"I'm sure I have some other property somewhere lying unused", shrugged Sirius.

"OK. For now, put them both in the same place, fix them up, test them. Make sure they both work, then gradually increase the distance between them".

"Will do".

* * *

 **1989-04-23 11:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Again, no one noticed him. He paced as required, and entered the room that, in a past life, had been gutted by fiend-fyre.

The cabinet, unfortunately, resisted all attempts at shrinking it, so he realised he would have to bodily lift it in order to pop out with it. Not easy for a wizard, but trivial for an elf.

Since Sirius was not yet ready with its future location, he decided not to do anything with it right now, but wait till Sirius had decided where it needed to go and had fixed up the place as required.

* * *

 **1989-04-23 12:05 UTC, Gaunt shack**

Dumbledore was **livid**.

He had left the ICW meeting as soon as it broke for lunch, telling his former peers that he needed to check on something and would be right back. Magically, apparating directly from Zurich to the Gaunt shack was no big deal for him, but the meeting would restart at 2pm Zurich time, and he had to be back by then. And even then he would have had to skip lunch.

He spent a few minutes trying to figure out what exactly had happened here,who had done what, and to what. His observations did not give him anything to be happy about.

Clearly, the wards had been utterly destroyed, and the shack was effectively gone - rubble, of the kind that he remembered from the muggle war in the 1940s, was all that was left. Worse, even the area around the shack appeared to have been blasted - there were bit of trees and shredded vegetation _behind_ him.

He stood there, in the mild early summer noon-time, and calmed himself down. There was no point risking the ire of the ICW by not turning up for the second half, because going after Dung right now was not a matter of urgency. He could always contact him later to see what he knew about wizards that could utterly destroy such a strong and complex ward scheme.

So, for the moment at least, there did not seem to be anything worth hanging around for here. if he apparated back to Zurich right now, he would get there about twenty minutes past the hour. He could grab some lunch with his former colleagues before the afternoon session resumed, and no one would need even know he had nearly done a runner on them.

But something stayed him. This rubble... looked different. It didn't look random enough; if he squinted, he could see that someone, or something, had swept a path through it.

Slowly, carefully, he moved forward, trying to feel for any wards that remained. Unlike Nick, he was not prepared with a broom; indeed it did not even occur to him that an aerial survey would have helped. Still, he slowly gained confidence and moved faster, until he was suddenly at what he was sure was the center of the structure.

Right in the middle, a small area was cleared. A piece of muggle paper, weighted down on one side by a piece of the rubble about the size of a brick, fluttered idly, even though there was no wind to speak of; clearly it had been charmed to attract attention.

Dumbledore scanned it for everything he could imagine, but found nothing. Carefully, he levitated the piece of wood holding it down, and picked up the paper.

It was blank. And then, as if it had recognised him, words appeared

 _Enjoying Zurich?_

Clearly, someone wanted to rub salt into his wounds. They would pay. Oh yes, this Phantom would pay - he did not know whom he was dealing with.

More lines appeared. A human hand... no, a fist. The back of a fist.

A second later, the middle finger extended upright.

Dumbledore howled in rage. He completely lost it - a temper tantrum the likes of which he had not had since, oh, forever. He mouthed profanities, he uttered imprecations against the Phantom, against Sirius, against Minerva, Remus. Even little Harry was not spared his temper, however impotent it may have been.

The rational part of his mind said there was nothing he could do about it for now, and he needed to get back to Zurich. There would be hell to pay if he did not make it into the ICW meeting chamber before the doors closed for the afternoon session. This part of his mind also said that having a spot of lunch in the luxurious ICW dining room would help him calm down.

It might have been nice if the same part of the brain was also in charge of the mechanics of apparation. The ICW dining room had never seen such excitement in the thousands of years it had existed: a former Supreme Mugwump, one of the most powerful wizards in the world, apparating in.

The people he was facing saw that a large chunk of his beard and most of his hair on one side had been splinched. Dumbledore, with a sheepish smile, started apologising.

"I am most terribly sorry, gentlemen; I have had a bit of bad news and I have not been thinking straight. I should not have apparated in this condition". After a pause, he added: "or directly into the dining room at all".

Having said that, he casually stepped away from where he had landed, and started repairing his beard and hair.

The complete silence was broken by sounds of retching from behind him. Apparently the people he had his back to, were losing their lunch.

He turned to see what was wrong, and now the people who he was previously facing started to make the same kind of noises.

It took him a while to remember that clothes could also be splinched.


	41. Chapter 41: Pandora's story

Chapter 41: Pandora's story

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** Additional AN: thanks for catching my canon-error on the cabinet. If I find some way to fix it I will, but if not, well, precisely _where_ Hobby found it is not really important to any future plot involving the cabinet in this fic, as long as we accept that he found it _somewhere_.

* * *

 **1989-07-28 10:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

It had been a few months since the last two known horcruxes were destroyed, and plans had been made for how to deal with the one in Harry's head (summary: don't deal with it in any way!) while making sure Voldemort would not gain power.

Meanwhile, Harry was almost 9, and it was high time he started making friends among his future schoolmates, thought Hobby.

Harry had, of course, met Neville at various times over the past couple of years, but it was always when he had accompanied Sirius on some visit, or if Neville had been accompanying Madam Longbottom, which wasn't quite the same as having a party or some thing focused on the kids.

Plus, he had an ulterior motive... Luna!

* * *

"So you think we should throw a big party for Harry", said Sirius. Harry was currently over at Hermione's - the summer holidays were well under way and they were alternating living at each other's place, as usual.

"Yes. And I think we should invite a few of the people he would be at Hogwarts with".

"Of course, that goes without saying! We'll invite Neville and Susan", said Sirius. He looked somewhat doubtful though.

"Just three kids? That won't be a party! We need at least a few more to liven things up, at least allow the kids to mix", said Hobby.

"Clearly you want someone else involved. Why don't you stop playing games and just say who you want invited?"

"Padma and Parvati Patil, Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass".

"Greengrass? Are you sure?"

"Yes; as far as I remember they were neutral. Daphne definitely was not prejudiced - I often saw her and Hermione deeply engaged in discussing some finer points of runes or arithmancy or whatever".

"OK. What about the Weasleys?"

"Fred and George are fine. Ron and Ginny only if someone can be assigned to them in some fashion. Sort of shadow them and monitor their behaviour".

"What?", said Sirius. "Why the heck is that needed for small children?"

Hobby sighed. He'd been hoping to get through this entire timeline without having Harry (and especially Hermione) make any meaningful contact with Ron. Limit it to whatever she _must_ have at Hogwarts, the same as any other student, but no more.

"Ron... gets insanely jealous. He has everything I used to wish for - parents and family. Yet he could only see my wealth and fame, not realising the high price I had paid".

"Oh come on, Arthur is such a nice guy, how could his children be like that?"

"No idea. Call him if you like but be prepared to monitor them. Not that I expect anything specific will happen, but just as an observation".

Sirius wasn't totally convinced, but he decided to let it go for now. Still... "Luna Lovegood? Did you know her well? And isn't this becoming terribly one-sided? Harry and Neville will be the only boys".

"Well, if we invited the 4 youngest Weasleys that would even things out a little. Fred and George are fun, and they will shortly discover your map, if they have not already found it, and then they will _worship_ you two!"

"The Marauders' Map? Do you know where it is?"

"Sure. I even used it last year when looking for Emily. But I put it back where I found it - I don't want to deprive Fred and George!", laughed Hobby.

"OK; we'll invite all four of them"", said Sirius. "But you haven't explained about Luna".

"She definitely needs to be invited. We need to meet her mum - I have to make sure she does not die, which happens some time in April next year if I recall. Luna is a very sweet child and does not deserve all the consequences of being left with one semi-crackpot of a parent", he said.

* * *

 **1989-07-29 and 1989-07-30**

Sirius had spent the next two days visiting the households of the kids they had decided on, inviting the children, with one adult to accompany, if they wished, to his muggle residence.

Reactions were varied, though none declined, though he was unable to reach the Patils - they had apparently gone out of the country on holiday.

* * *

"I would be happy to send Neville, Sirius, but I am afraid I will be unable to accompany him due to other commitments. Will you be able to transport him? Do you have a floo? I don't see any other way for him to visit, really". Despite the familiarity borne out of the last few years, there was still a distinct air of snootiness! Sirius did not **dare** to suggest the Knight Bus.

So he had scrambled to get a temporary floo connection **most urgently**. That woman was scary, and he thanked God every day she had been with Madam Marchbanks when Minerva had accompanied him to ask for the use of her pensieve.

Fortunately, he had enough power and influence to make the floo connection happen quickly and without fuss.

Unfortunately, he had not discussed this with, or even informed, Hobby. And Hobby did not think of transport for the kids - he certainly would not be providing it, and he just assumed some would use muggle means, and the others would use the Knight Bus.

* * *

"My sister has often spoken of you, Lord Black. It seems you, or someone you know very well, is primarily responsible for her becoming the minister? Anyway, yes we would be delighted to send Susan. Susan's mother is reasonably familiar with muggle London, since she runs a real estate firm, so do not worry about transport. It will be good for Susan to spend time in the muggle world; thank you for thinking of us!"

* * *

"Really? You live in a muggle house, in a muggle neighbourhood? Interesting... Look I'll be frank. I have no prejudice against muggles, since a lot of my business interests involve them, and I often visit the financial district, but with the reputation your house has, I never expected its lord to live in muggle London. I bet your mother is turning in her grave", laughed Cyrus Greengrass. "I will take a day off and himself accompany Daphne!"

Sirius thought there was politics involved. He _had_ mentioned that Neville and Susan were invited, but not that neither Madam Bones nor Madam Longbottom would be accompanying.

"That would be wonderful, Lord Greengrass. You could floo in too, if you like. I had a temporary connection setup because that's the only viable transport for some of my guests, such as Neville. His grandmother is unable to attend, and she would not consider sending him by any other mode".

It was amusing to see Cyrus visibly get less excited. He hoped this was only because he was - as his reputation said - a very cunning businessman, and nothing more. Hobby had said they were neutral but he was not completely convinced.

* * *

"Would the hobgoblins also be attending, Lord Black? Are you planning a comeback tour?"

"Shush, Xeno, dear! Don't mind him Lord Black. We would be honored to accept your invitation, and I will accompany Luna. In fact, there is something I wish to speak to you about, so would you mind if we arrived an hour earlier, if it would not discommode you too much?"

But try as he might, she would not tell him what it was. When he mentioned this to Nick and Penny, they had a gleam in their eyes, and they changed their plans.

"I know we said we don't want to attend, in order to keep our privacy, and I think that is still necessary, especially if the Weasley's are attending. But we will be there for the duration of Pandora's visit, and we will leave quietly before the others arrive, in order to maintain our secrecy. We'll use your study, just in case one of the others arrives a bit earlier than expected".

 _What the hell is going on_ , thought Sirius. Remus had no idea either, but worse, neither did Hobby.

* * *

"Really? I had heard you were living in a muggle locality and house, Lord Black, but I thought it was just a rumour! This is fascinating. May I visit? In my job I have to know so much about muggles, but I could always use more first hand knowledge! For example, I don't know what a rubber duck is used for? Do you have any rubber ducks at home?"

Sirius wasn't sure which would be worse. Hobby's description of Molly Weasley's overbearing nature made her an equally unattractive choice to accompany her kids, while Arthur seemed ready to dismantle their TV or something if left alone. Perhaps he'd need _three_ watchers to monitor the Weasleys, not just two.

* * *

 **1989-07-31 15:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Pandora Lovegood flooed into Sirius Black's muggle home precisely at 3pm, with her daughter following a few seconds later.

Kreacher was waiting in the floo room. Temporary connections apparently could not have passwords set - though they could be turned off and on as needed. It was thus Kreacher's job to ensure that no one, other than the select list of invitees would be able to make it past the room in which the floo had been hooked up, if there were indeed any brave enough to trespass on Lord Black's property.

He bowed to her - she was after a pureblood from a long line of purebloods, and, despite recent events, old habits die hard - and said "Welcome, Mrs Lovegood! Please follow me".

He quickly took them to the Sirius's study, bowed them in, and went back to his station at the floo.

"Welcome to my house, Mrs Lovegood", said Sirius. "Please have a seat. And let me first introduce my friends here. This is my very old friend Remus Lupin, this is the Phantom, of whom you must have read - both I and my godson owe him a lot, as you probably know - and this is my godson Harry, and his best friend and our neighbour Hermione".

Pandora smiled at all of them in turn, pausing briefly when she came to the Phantom. "Thank you, Lord Black!", she said. "And this is my daughter Luna", she said, turning a very warm smile at the child.

"Hello Luna! Would you like to go with Harry and Hermione and maybe watch some TV or play some games until the other children arrive?", said Sirius.

Harry would have loved to stay in this room - clearly something was going on - but he was equally sure no amount of pouting would make that happen. In any case, Hobby had told him and Hermione that Luna was a very nice girl and would be a very good friend in the future. She and Neville were probably the most important people for them to be friends with.

"Hi Luna, let's go and watch some TV", said Harry. He waited for her to give her mother a brief hug, then all three children left.

* * *

"We have to wait for a couple of my friends to join us", said Sirius.

He proceeded to make himself a bit more comfortable, then suddenly realised the tension in the room had risen a little. Pandora was looking at the Phantom in a very meaningful way. Once she was sure he was sufficiently uncomfortable, she gave him a beatific smile, and said, "it's very nice to meet you Hobby Potter!"

While Remus and Sirius were picking up their jaws from the floor, Hobby had gone pale from the shock.

Nick and Penny chose that moment to enter the study. Hobby looked at them with a desperate look in his eyes. "She knows... how...?"

Nick did not seem to be fazed in any way; he just laughed pleasantly.

Penny moved to Pandora and gave her a hug. "It is so very nice to see you again my dear", she said. "How's Xeno? It's been years since you've come by. Is Luna here? She must have grown so much since we last saw her!"

She turned to Hobby. "Don't worry about Pandora, Hobby. She can keep a secret, as you will soon see. By the way, she is my god-daughter. Well one of my many god-daughters over the centuries I guess! And she is a true seer, so don't be surprised if she knows more than you think she should!"

The Phantom turned back to Hobby - he was more comfortable in this form, the other one was more a "fighting form" - and looked at Pandora. He had calmed down somewhat from Penny's assurances, and really, if someone was a seer - well what could you do about it?

He decided there was no point getting upset. And then, this was **Luna** 's mother - Luna, whom he trusted with his life, and loved like a brother. Luna's father was not trustworthy - at least not under pressure - but he was sure many of Luna's qualities had come from her mother. Even the physical resemblance was remarkable, including the radish earrings.

"I was going to ask if the Nargles told you?", he said, with a smile.

Pandora threw her head back and laughed out loud. "Oh I can see you spent quite some time with my Luna", she said. "Someday you must tell me the whole story".

"But not now" - a half statement, half question from Nick.

"Not now, Nick. We have more urgent things to discuss".

Hobby shifted uncomfortably. He clearly had something to say. Pandora looked at him expectantly, and with the same smile on her lips that he had often seen Luna give him over the last few years of his past life - gentle encouragement, with a hint of humour.

"I suppose it is true, then, that a seer cannot see anything that affects her own self?"

"Yes it is. Are you going to tell me when I will die?" With a question like that, you might expect her smile to drop, or at least change a little, but no - it was still the same.

"As far as I can recall, April next year".

That seemed to shake her a bit. "Hmm, interesting. I wonder...", she paused, gazing into the middle distance calmly. Then she visibly refocused.

"Never mind, I am quite sure that will not happen this time", she said, with a smile. "Let's talk about the horcrux in Harry's scar".

Sirius, who had just gotten up to bring in some tea and snacks (kept ready in the kitchen, with a warming charm), suddenly dropped, like a sack of potatoes, back into his chair. Two shocks within five to ten minutes were too much to take.

"That doesn't sound like a seer thing", said Penny shrewdly.

Pandora did not reply directly. Instead, she seemed to segue into something else.

"How many of you know what I do for a living?"

Since Sirius and Remus hardly knew her at all, this was not something they could even answer. At Hogwarts, she was at least a few years older than them, and they had not known her, leave alone kept track of her after she left.

Penny gave them a hint. Looking directly at Sirius and Remus, she said "if someone appears to have a job, but you don't know what it is, **and** they're clearly very intelligent, it's a safe bet they're an unspeakable".

"Think about that for a minute or two gentleman, and consider if someone you knew from your school days may have gone on to become an unspeakable too", said Pandora, with a grin.

For a change, Sirius got it first. And to be honest, Remus was often away on missions for Dumbledore during those days so he may not have got it.

"Lily?"

"We're not supposed to talk about our work, but I left the department when Luna's arrival was imminent, and I think I won't be revealing any great secrets today. The fact is, a couple of years after I joined, we got a new recruit who was brilliant with charms. We quickly grew to be good friends - none of you knew, not even James, due to the department's policies".

"Lily", she continued, "confided in me when Dumbledore came to them with the news that a prophecy existed which would make Voldemort target little Harry. She was essentially saying goodbye."

She took a sip of her tea.

"But I wasn't going to let her go that easily. We'd already reinvented those wonderful mirrors you boys had used in school, moving the charms into our earrings, and we knew these were immune to magical protections like the Fidelius. I mean, she couldn't still speak the name of the place she was in, but anything else could be said."

"We spent a lot of time discussing her options. It was I who sent her - via you, Sirius, though you did not know it, a book that had the charm she eventually used to protect Harry."

Sirius stared at her. "That book she had me pickup at an obscure bookshop in the far north corner of the alley?"

Pandora nodded.

"There was a very nice, friendly, woman behind the counter; very pleasant and friendly. Who was she?"

Pandora just smiled. "I'll tell you this: that shop did not exist the day before you went there, and it disappeared ten minutes after you left".

She had to openly laugh at Sirius's expression as she said this. "Anyway, we knew one possible side effect of that charm - under certain conditions - was that it would leave a cursed scar behind, which would contain a horcrux. We weren't too worried about Voldemort returning using that horcrux, because we had very good reasons to believe he'd already made some, so it's not as if _this_ horcrux, if prevented, would have caused his permanent death anyway".

"So what did you do?"

"I promised to start research on removing horcruxes from a live receptacle".

"How far along are you?"

"Almost done. It's very slow going - lots of theory the first few years. Very complicated arithmantic equations. Double check, triple check, everything. Then do it again just in case. And only then move to the next stage. Plus I had nothing to test my theories on. Sure I could buy some horcruxes in Egypt but they're not in _living_ hosts."

"So... how long?", asked Remus this time.

"About eight months more and I'll have proved it in the lab, and would be ready to meet Harry to start the next stage".

She looked meaningfully at Hobby, then turned to Sirius.

"I was planning to visit you and ask for permission to take some initial measurements so I could fine tune my equations. It wouldn't hurt Harry in any way of course", she added quickly.

Hobby didn't get why she was looking at him.

Nick and Penny evidently did, and were growing visibly angry.

Sirius and Remus were looking as confused as Hobby was.

Penny moved close to Hobby, while Nick went and sat next to Sirius, holding him in a brotherly fashion.

Pandora went to Remus and took his hands in hers. "You would not have found him, Remus. You did not. You got close - too close for someone's comfort - so you were obliviated. He took away all of your muggle life, all your success in your work, all your friends forgot about you, and you about them. You were left penniless and jobless, with only the occasional oddjob here and there to keep you going, until Harry's third year".

Hobby was crying. He had long suspected this was the case, seeing how successful Remus was here, and comparing it to what he saw of Remus in his past life, but to hear it confirmed from a seer...

Penny turned to Nick. "Dear, I know we never killed anyone. Can we please make one exception?" She wasn't even joking. Her voice was raspy and angsty - her six centuries of life had not immunised her to whatever was happening.

"Will someone please tell us what is going on?", said Sirius.

But by now Hobby had got it. His anger was a sight to behold. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy and oppressive, and everyone could feel the power of this elf-wizard, and that something had made him **enormously** angry.

Penny hugged him tight. "Calm down, Hobby, calm down honey. We will get him, I swear. But right now, you're going to make the kids really scared if you don't control yourself and you end up shorting out the electronics here. They may even be hurt if the TV explodes or something!"

That calmed Hobby down faster than anything else could have. He took a few deep breaths, then looked at Remus.

"Think about it Remus. He prevented you from reaching me, taking some pretty drastic measures, screwing you over in multiple ways. That was just for being able to contact me. Now think about what Pandora just said about when she would be ready to run some preliminary tests on Harry. Eight months from now. April next year, give or take".

"And what did he just say happened in April next year?", asked Pandora.


	42. Chapter 42: Next time, I'll send a car

Chapter 42: Next time, I'll send a car round

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** (Exception: some names in this chapter were _not_ generated using the method described in that AN!)

* * *

 **1989-07-31 17:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

It had taken surprisingly little time for Hobby to calm down, once he was reminded that there were three little kids watching TV elsewhere in the house. Besides, this was Harry's birthday, and there was no way Hobby would rain on that parade.

By unspoken but unanimous consent, therefore, the topic of Dumbledore having potentially murdered Pandora in the old timeline, was left alone till they could revisit it with less emotional heads. Besides, as Nick reminded them, it may have been coincidence; there was no proof that he _had_ murdered her. After all, other than the timing - and that too Hobby couldn't be _absolutely_ sure of the date - there really was nothing else. Sure it was very convenient but that's all it was for now.

And so they had cleaned themselves up as needed, put on their party faces, and proceeded to have fun. Or rather, make sure the kids would have fun, because by about ten minutes past four, all the kids who had been invited had made it, and in most cases with an adult accompanying them.

* * *

Molly Weasley was the first one through the floo, at 4pm sharp. She was followed by her four youngest children, in various degrees of excitement.

Molly Weasley had bluntly told her husband she would be going, not he. Arthur had been very disappointed, but he dared not make a big fuss. It's not that he feared the infamous "living room couch" - after seven kids, that was perhaps even a good idea once in a while, as someone at work had joked with him during lunch one day. No, it was more psychological than that. She basically just terrified him. (To be honest, there had been moments when Arthur Weasley would be hard pressed to remember when or how he had got up the courage to propose to Molly. But that's a tale for another time!)

Molly's stated reason was simple. "I do not want you going berserk over the muggle equipment in their house. You'll just make a fool of yourself, and you may even end up unintentionally insulting Lord Black". Her real reason was of course much more crass, though she would never articulate it to anyone, least of all her husband.

In any case, the four children joined Harry, Hermione, and Luna. Hobby watched them for a bit, looking for Ginny's reaction to Harry, but it was very different from his timeline, possibly thanks to the books about Harry Potter being discontinued shortly after Sirius got custody. There was still a little of that, which was probably unavoidable. _I think the butter dishes are probably safe, though_ , he thought.

The only downside was that Molly had decided to stay in the kids room. She was always nice to children, but Hobby still thought the kids should be left completely to themselves, at least until they got to know each other a bit. Fortunately, Hermione's mum was also there (her dad having volunteered to pull double duty at their clinic), and she was more than equal to the task of handling Molly, since Hobby had already primed her.

* * *

Cyrus Greengrass stepped out of his car, impeccably dressed for a casual evening in the muggle world, in tan jeans and a deep maroon shirt. Anyone who only saw him in the wizarding world would have been absolutely shocked, not just for the clothes, but also the car and the chauffeur. Sirius's jaw dropped a foot when he answered the door, causing the Lord Greengrass to laugh out loud. Sirius quickly composed himself, and taking advantage of the fact that he too was dressed in muggle clothes (as he always was, of course, when in his home), he decided to take a chance.

"Welcome to my home, Cyrus! I hope you don't mind if we drop the overly formal phrases we were taught from childhood?", he grinned and held out a hand to shake. His misgivings about Harry's trust in this man's neutrality were completely laid to rest - no one who was even remotely a blood purist would arrive in muggle transport.

Cyrus shook his hand with a firm grip, saying "well, ritual or not, the welcome is what matters. Thanks for having us over, Sirius!"

Sirius looked down at the girl standing slightly behind Cyrus, giving her a warm smile. He bent a little to offer her his hand to shake. "Hello Daphne! It's good to have you here. Would you like to join the other kids?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes thank you Lord Black".

Cyrus and Daphne followed Sirius to the kids' room. He caught Harry's eye, and beckoned him over.

"Harry, this is Daphne. Would you introduce her to the others? We're still waiting for Neville and Susan, but they should be along shortly".

Harry smiled at Daphne. As he and Hermione, who was right behind him, spoke to Daphne, Cyrus and Sirius left. The adults had another room where they could relax for a while, though they'd come back when it came time for the party games. If they felt like it, of course.

* * *

Contrary to what she had told Sirius, Madam Longbottom _did_ accompany Neville. As she gracefully stepped out of the floo, she looked at Sirius with a hint of apology.

Sirius quickly bade her welcome. "I'm so glad you were able to come after all, Augusta!", he exclaimed.

"Thank you Sirius! I hope my unexpected change of plan is not an inconvenience?"

"Not at all", said Sirius. "Let me show you to the drawing room, and then I will take Neville to the kids' play room, where the other kids are".

He stopped for a few minutes enjoying Madam Longbottom's expression when she saw Cyrus, and Cyrus's expression in return. Chuckling to himself quietly, he took Neville to the play room, and came back quickly. Neville knew Harry anyway, and Harry would take care of the rest.

* * *

The room they were all sitting in, had a large bay window looking out into the front garden. Toward the left was the front gate, usually left open for Remus, in case he decided to drive here - it was rare, but not unheard of.

To Madam Longbottom's immense surprise, two cars drove up. The first one, looking a little beaten up, drove in and parked in the drive way. The other one, which looked like it was pretty new - not that Madam Longbottom would know car models, but at least it shone brilliantly - stopped just outside.

Almost in synchrony, three doors opened. From the older car's driver's side door, a young man about Sirius's age stepped out. From the other car, Martha Bones, the minister's sister-in-law, stepped out of the driver's side door, and simultaneously, young Susan opened the passenger door.

She stared goggle-eyed. She had never imagined that two of the oldest pureblood families had such close muggle connections. She had always prided herself on her family being "light", and therefore tolerant of muggles, half-bloods, etc., unlike those cowardly fools who had ruined the lives of her son and his wife.

Sirius could almost read her mind. "Surprised, Augusta? You did not know that Martha runs an agency that works in both our worlds?"

"No I did not. Nor did I know that Lord Greengrass was so comfortable in the muggle world, or at least with muggle clothing", she said.

It wasn't clear how to take this comment. While Sirius and Cyrus were trying to figure out how to respond, she decided to lighten it up.

"I am **so** glad I decided to leave my hat at home", she said.

A hastily muffled snicker came from somewhere behind Sirius's chair. Sirius quickly covered it up by coughing and pretending it was him.

* * *

By 5pm, the kids were making as much noise as though they'd known each other for years - which is quite easy with kids. Since there were no statute issues, Kreacher had been moved from his station at the floo, to take charge of helping the kids in any way they needed, or if not, just to keep watch and make sure there were no accidents or whatever. Mrs. Granger could only do so much, and Hobby did not really trust Mrs Weasley.

 **1989-07-31 17:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Floo Regulation Office**

The floo system was an interesting invention. Much like the internet that we know now, it was designed and the network was built during a time when the idea that _security_ was required had never crossed anyone's mind - not the inventors (Galofalo Purplebanger and Cherubicus Fingergoop), and certainly not the adoring public, who finally had a way for their doddering oldies to get from point K to point Q without fear of splinching.

As such, it was well into the beginning of the century before people realised that a rash of petty burglaries in homes that were too poor to afford _wards_ were due to the insecure floo network, and efforts began to be made to add a password feature to the system.

Anyway, the mechanism to set a password was complicated and time-taking, and the ministry deemed it to be too much of an effort for temporary connections.

(Many ( **many!** ) years later, Hermione would - more as an entertaining diversion from her main work rather than out of any long-term interest - write a short treatise on the problems of the password system, winning her accolades from various people - mainly because until she wrote about it, many people did not realise that, although it was hard to setup a password mechanism, it was trivially easy for the owner to change the password, without even notifying the floo office or needing their help. The fact that she based the bulk of her work on her experiences, in the early 2000s, with passwords on the internet, and the phenomenon of phishing and social engineering, was glossed over - no one understood the section in which she acknowledged her source of inspiration, so they just ignored it! Only Harry knew she had once been hacked, although even he did not truly understand all the details of how she had gotten her revenge on the muggle government agency that was behind the attack!)

Even having a password would not protect against the floo authority personnel themselves being nosy bastards, of course, so as far as the temporary connection in Sirius's muggle home was concerned, a password would not have prevented the currently on-duty employee of the floo office from watching who was visiting, listening in on the activity, and monitoring for a prolonged period of quiet.

"Typical bloody foolish blood-traitor behaviour", she muttered to herself. "Not having the forethought to install a permanent floo when he first moved there and set a password on it".

There was no one else there at that time so she may as well have spoken clearly and loudly, but long hours spent alone had given her a Gollum-like mode of communicating with herself, and speaking to herself. (Fortunately, she had not developed any other symptoms that turned Smeagol into Gollum - the bent-over posture, the shuffling gait, etc.)

"I will take my revenge for my darling Antonin's death", she growled. She had long had a major crush on the death-eater, solely on the basis of him being moderately good looking, combined with having bestowed on her a warm smile one day when he had come in to have his floo connected or something.

After that he had visited her a few times, with what appeared, to her, to be merely excuses, so she was certain he also felt something for her.

Never mind that she at least had been married for a year by the time she had first met him. Such was the lonely life of Arabietta Edgecombe of the Floo Regulation Office.

 **1989-07-31 17:30 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Arabietta Edgecombe, now finally off-duty, stepped into her own floo. But instead of shouting out her home address, she shouted out the temporary address Sirius had chosen ("Kitty Close" - he had shortened Kithurst because speaking clearly was very important in the floo network, and he didn't want to risk any of his visitors accidentally fumbling on that word).

She stepped out of it into an elegant parlour, and listened for a minute. From the far end of a longish passage, she could hear the squeals of children. Was this a kid's party? _Of course_ , she smacked her head with her palm. _It was the Potter boy's birthday, wasn't it?_

Could she dare? Would she succeed? She had come in with no clear plan in her mind, only a vague notion of inflicting _some_ damage. Preferably to the Phantom (such was her arrogance - she was well and truly on the wrong side of the Dunning-Kruger curve), but since he was unlikely to be here, then to Black himself, for being his unofficial champion and/or spokesperson.

Could she turn her target to the Potter boy? What would she do? Was she capable of murdering a child? _Absolutely NOT_ , she shuddered. Then what?

Unable to decide what she could do to the kids that would allow her to look her own daughter in the face later (and thus redeeming herself somewhat in the eyes of any supposed "providence"), she turned to the other room whence came a more subdued, certainly adult, conversation.

She knew that Madam Longbottom had come in, and also that dumpy Weasley woman (oh what a shrill, grating voice she had!). And that was it. Two blood traitors, one of whom was too old to put up a fight anyway. (She had missed Pandora, somehow, but even if she had seen her, she would not have been too worried - two blood traitors and one crackpot, would have been her assessment).

As she got closer, she slowed down and walked a bit more quietly, holding her wand out, with a spell on her lips ready to go. As soon as she saw someone, she pointed at the person - Sirius Black, who was facing the door, and shouted out an explosion curse.

* * *

Kreacher heard the floo activate, despite his current job of making sure the kids were having fun, and helping as needed. He was sure Sirius had not invited someone else, but did not want to leave his assigned post. Instead, he raised an eye at Dobby, who was standing off to one side, enjoying (vicariously?) Harry's joyous enjoyment of his first birthday party, and asked, "is Master Sirius expecting anyone else?"

Dobby thought for a moment. There was no one he could think of. He almost shrugged it off, then his danger sense went into overdrive. Not only were they not expecting anyone else, it should not even be possible for anyone to know of this floo connection.

He popped straight over to the floo room. There was no one there, but he heard footsteps leading away, and the back of some woman just turning the corner toward the drawing room. He would be too late to simply run after her; she was already lifting her wand hand, so he did the only thing he could: he transformed into the Phantom and popped in front of her, reaching her just as she started shouting a spell.

Before she could complete it, he had wrenched the wand from her grasp and broken it.

* * *

Wandlore was an arcane subject that, in this day and age, possibly only Ollivander had any depth of knowledge in. How does a wand work? What does it actually do? No one really knew. Or rather, no one really cared to know.

The result of this incident would fuel idle, but only theoretical, speculation for years. Why only theoretical? Because, while the incident did serve as the trigger for an intellectual "hmm, I wonder...", it also didn't indicate any safe avenues for research.

What happened was simple: Edgecombe's wand arm exploded from just above the elbow on down.

The Phantom took the brunt of the mess - he was standing so close to her that his body effectively shielded most of the rest of the room from the blood and bits of bone. Some of it escaped from the side, and made an interesting pattern on the floor and the walls.

The Phantom cleaned himself up with a quick motion of his wand. Another swipe cauterised the stump, and a third cleaned up the floor and the walls.

Edgecombe fainted and fell down in a heap.

* * *

 **1989-07-31 18:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

It was a testament to the type of friends that Sirius - knowingly or not - was cultivating that all the adults in the room were calm - not even Martha Bones, who - due to her occupation of "real estate agent" - might have been expected to be far from danger in her day-to-day life, screamed or went into hysterics. She did look a bit shaken, but that was all.

Madam Longbottom was completely unfazed. And Cyrus Greengrass looked just as impassive.

"Krea-", started Sirius, but Kreacher had heard the curse and was already there. He took one look at the woman and looked to Sirius for orders.

"Call the DMLE, Kreacher, and then stay near the floo for the rest of the evening. Did any of the kids hear the curse?"

"No master Sirius. They've stopped playing games and are watching a movie, and the TV is too loud".

Sirius nodded, and Kreacher left to call the "cops", so to speak.

Madam Longbottom wondered what a TV was. Martha Bones looked a bit surprised, but then realised she shouldn't have been. Cyrus laughed quietly, earning a questioning glance from Sirius.

"Nothing. TV... your mother must be rolling in her grave!"

Sirius grinned, but did not reply. Now was not the time.

Martha coughed gently. "Do you have a phone I can use? Amy has one at home, and by now she should be home. I'd like her here if at all possible".

Sirius pointed to the hall. "Excellent idea; I agree completely - if she is not too busy, it'd be nice to have her here. First door on your right is a small study; you'll find a phone on the desk."

* * *

Within a few minutes, Amelia had flooed in, and Kreacher had guided her to the drawing room, before going back to his place by the floo.

"Does she need a healer?" asked Amelia.

"I doubt it. She'll have some trauma from her hand exploding, but the pain should have gone as soon as I cauterised it", said the Phantom.

"Aah, you're here. Why am I not surprised?", said Amelia in a dry tone. But she was smiling, and the Phantom grinned back at her.

"We were lucky. I was late to the party, and had just popped in when I saw this woman raising her wand to Sirius."

"So you blasted her hand?"

"Certainly not. I snatched the wand away before she could finish the word 'reducto'. Her hand then exploded in a huge mess of blood and bone fragments."

"And you cleaned it all up?"

"Amy", interjected her sister-in-law. "It was unsightly and unsettling. I'm glad he did, although he seems to have forgotten the ceiling". She pointed up.

"Ouch!", said the Phantom, and cleaned that up too.

Amelia sighed. Normally she would have wanted samples of the blood to analyse, but with Madam Longbottom, Lord Greengrass, Lord Black (to use their formal names), and her own sister-in-law present, it was clear she did not need to verify that the blood was Edgecombe's.

But she was not the DMLE head now; so technically this was not her call. That was Shacklebolt's job.

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in just then. Normally, the director of the DMLE would not respond to calls - this was way below his pay grade. But this particular residence, housing the boy-who-lived and his powerful godfather, was one of the "VIP flagged" locations in the DMLE's internal list, so he got wind of it. By complete chance, Amelia had also casually mentioned while they were winding up a meeting that morning, that her niece would be here for Harry Potter's birthday party.

It took Amelia a very short time to brief him, while two of the aurors enervated Edgecombe, and escorted her to their holding cells.

Amelia turned to Sirius. "We'll find out what happened - I think, considering who all are in this room, no one will object to veritaserum being used. We'll get everyone who is involved in this, directly or indirectly", she said.

Sirius was nothing if not a gracious host. "Amelia, I'm sure that can wait. Why don't you join us for a few drinks and some conversation? Your niece is back there watching TV; once their movie finishes we'll get to the food. Stay?"

Before she could answer, he turned to Shacklebolt and said "that offer is open to you too, Mr Shacklebolt", he said. Hobby had told him how, in his past life, Shacklebolt was in charge of the "hunt" for Sirius Black, and how he had handled that responsibility. Although it had not happened here, he had some vague feeling of gratitude to the man. Besides, he was just being a good host.

Kingsley demurred. "Thank you for the invitation, Lord Black, but I need to be going. My wife and I have plans for later in the evening", he said. "Minister, I'll have the boys prep her for questioning tomorrow; she won't be going anywhere".

"One moment, Mr Shacklebolt", said the Phantom. "When you question her tomorrow, could you also ask her the following question: what are the names of all the people you know in the ministry who were sympathetic to Voldemort's cause, but did not take the mark or do anything overtly yet".

Amelia sighed again. Their world had had a couple of years of peace and quiet, but apparently it was not to last. She had long given up any hopes of bringing this wizard up on any charges, mainly because her own sympathies had betrayed her sense of duty.

"What are you suspecting, Mr Phantom?"

"Please Minister, just call me... 'James' will do, I guess. I may have told you already, that 'Phantom' was a title I took on as a joke, and then it just stuck. But to your question, I will tell you there are many such people in the ministry. Umbridge was the most odious and most visible of them, but she was by no means the only one. If Voldemort ever comes back, these are the people he will try to recruit."

"And if they do, you will simply take the law into your own hands again?", she asked.

"Not while you are the Minister. Dolohov was an exception, an outlier".

Amelia nodded. She had to take what she was being offered, and to be honest the Phantom had always respected her; she had no complaints.

Turning to Sirius, she said, "I'll stay for some time Sirius, thank you for the invite." She then nodded to Kingsley, who was leaving, and made herself comfortable in the group here.

"Sirius, I need to go ask Ollivander some questions; I'll be back by the time you guys start eating but if I'm not, please don't wait for me". With that, the Phantom bowed to everyone in the room, and disappeared.

* * *

 **Additional ANs:** (1) This chapter ran away with itself; this was not what I had originally planned at all. Oh well. (2) Please don't get used to the 1-week update that happened here; I will try to maintain it but am not sure I can! (3) The Dunning-Kruger effect is real; look it up on wikipedia or elsewhere :)


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1989-07-31 16:30 UTC, Kithurst Close**

While these momentous things were going on, the kids had been having a reasonably good time, all things considered.

The first hour, when they had Luna for company but the others had not yet arrived, was spent in getting to know each other. Hobby had spent a fair amount of time with Harry and Hermione, giving them little tidbits of information on most of their future friends - nothing negative, and mainly sticking to facts and hard-to-refute opinions. The only mildly negative thing he had said was that Mrs Weasley tended to think her way was the only way, and attempted to enforce it on anyone and everyone, not just her own kids, though she meant well and had a good heart.

(As for Luna, since hopefully Luna's mother would not die this time around, she may not be the dreamy, other-worldly, being that his Luna had been. So he had merely said she was lovable, sweet, not a mean bone in her body, and very intelligent. Also that she was often lonely, and really had no friends except Ginny. He hadn't mentioned nargles or snorcacks though - _let Hermione discover those animals herself_ , he had chuckled to himself!)

So Hermione had welcomed the girl warmly. Truth be told, it would be good for her and Harry to have other friends; God knows they did not have many close friends in the local school they were going to, and that was before they had realised they would not see any of them past the 90-91 school year.

(She did get a little shock when Luna turned to her, and whispered, "I am **soo** glad you were with him. God alone knows what would have happened if he was alone". She just smiled hesitantly, and allowed Luna to change the subject immediately. They had not told anyone of her part in the unexpected rescue from Dolohov, and in fact very few people knew she existed, far less that she was also with Harry at that time. Reserving judgement for now, she resolved to ask Hobby next time she saw him).

Luna had a little knowledge of the muggle world, but most of the toys and games in Harry's room were new to her, as was the TV and VHS player. To Harry's immense delight, she had started with the TV to ask her first questions. Harry was happy to demonstrate, but it had taken all of Hermione's persuasive skills to convince him that they should watch his favourite movie _after_ all the other kids were here, _and_ they had all exhausted both themselves as well as all the games they had planned. So Harry settled on one of the cartoon movies in his collection - something that you didn't have to watch till the end if you found other things to do.

Once Luna had had enough of the TV, she spent some time learning about some of the muggle games; Scrabble especially took her fancy quite well. The two girls played for a while, with Harry watching, and it seemed as if she would be quite the contendor if they could continue.

* * *

Pretty soon, though, the other kids had arrived, within a few minutes of each other. First was Mrs Weasley and her four children, then Daphne, then Neville, then Susan.

Sirius had welcomed Mrs Weasley cordially, but somewhat informally - this was intentional. He had offered her the choice of hanging out with the kids, or joining him and Pandora in the drawing room, mentioning that a few other parents were expected. She had chosen to go with the kids. (It was very surprising to Hobby, watching this, that Molly and Pandora greeted each other quite formally, and after that made no attempt to socialise, as one might expect of two witches living so close to each other. Was it only Luna and Ginny that were friends? Of course, the intellectual gap between Molly Weasley and Pandora Lovegood was pretty wide, so maybe that was the reason. He couldn't call this a difference, per se, since it may well have been the same in his timeline also).

As soon as Sirius had introduced Mrs Weasley to the kids (including a casual, throw-away, remark to the effect that Hermione was a muggleborn) and left, she took over. She was the only adult in the room, but even without that, she was used to her husband and children (well, most of them anyway) obeying her commands without complaint.

She saw Luna and Hermione playing Scrabble. Ginny, since she knew Luna, gravitated to them, while Ron and the twins engaged Harry in conversation. They started chatting - at first a little stiffly, though it got better quickly. They almost literally lived in different worlds, but, unlike adults, this was more a conversation maker than a conversation breaker - children could afford to be curious without worry. And once again Harry found himself explaining the TV and showing a movie. Wisely, he decided not to risk Hermione's wrath, so he stuck to the cartoon Luna had been watching.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Luna were explaining Scrabble to Mrs Weasley and Ginny. While Ginny was fascinated and admiring (there were several words on the board that she had never heard before), it was clear that Mrs Weasley was not impressed.

"That looks more like an English exam than a game. Don't you think you should play something more... _enjoyable_?"

She got a blank stare from Luna, and a grin from Hermione. "Oh we are certainly enjoying ourselves, Mrs Weasley!", she said.

"That may be, but proper witches and wizards should play wizarding games!"

Hermione's mother entered just then. Quickly introducing herself to the matronly woman, she then asked her, quite innocently, "Mrs Weasley, did Sirius not mention that this was a muggle dwelling?"

"Oh yes he did, Mrs Granger".

"Well, as you know we - my daughter, my husband, and I - are new to this world, but we're trying to learn as much as we can. I'd like to understand what is considered proper and what is considered improper for a witch or a wizard. I presume, from what you said, that going to a child's birthday in a muggle house is proper enough, but playing the games that happened to be in that home is not, then?"

Molly Weasley spluttered. "Well, that's... that's not the point. A home is a much bigger thing, you can't simply change it. Games-"

"So, a muggle home is not proper, ideally? That is, if Sirius would move to a magical home that would be more proper? Does he know this? Should we tell him?"

More spluttering. She dared not presume to tell Lord Black anything like that. In fact she dared not call him by his first name, while this muggle woman apparently was comfortable doing so. "No no, that's not- that would be- that would not be appropriate-"

Mrs Granger would not let go. Adding a confused expression on her face, she said, "Oh Mrs Weasley, I'm even more confused now! Is that because Sirius is, as you just called him, a _Lord_? If he weren't a Lord, would it be appropriate to tell him his home is not fit for a proper wizard?"

Mrs Weasley grasped at the straw, because she was not quite smart enough to _completely_ let go of her original, misguided, statement. "Yes, that would be appropriate. Lord Black knows what he is doing, but other wizards might not".

Hermione and Harry had been watching this, and enjoying the take-down. Hermione had beckoned to Harry as soon as it started, and Harry had excused himself from the group he was chatting with and come over. (And the boys in his group would not have come even if he had asked them! Three of them for obvious reasons, and Neville because he was still a bit shy).

Hermione decided to stir the pot a little. "Mum, I'm even more confused now. In the muggle world, we use _proper_ , at least in this context, to indicate a level of traditional behaviour that only the upper crust seem to be able to maintain, and that lesser people are _not_ held to. If Sirius is a Lord, and it's OK for him to live in an _improper_ residence, why is not OK for lesser wizards to do so?"

Mrs Weasley was staring goggle-eyed at Hermione, probably flabbergasted by the rhetoric.

Hermione turned to her. "Mrs Weasley, does the wizarding world hold more important people to lesser standards? Is that the cause of this confusion on the part of my mum and I? Because I assure you it's the other way round in the muggle world".

Mrs Weasley was getting visibly annoyed. First this girl speaks like no child she has ever heard, and now she was questioning her. Really, it even seemed as if the girl was making fun of her in some subtle manner! How dare she?

Speaking over Hermione, she queried Mrs Granger. "Is _this_ considered proper in your world? Children questioning adults in this manner?"

She expected Mrs Granger to hang her head, or rebuke her daughter to save face. Or maybe both.

What she got was this: "Oh absolutely! As long as they are polite and stay on topic, it's excellent for their self-confidence, their reasoning skills, and their ability to make judgements based on available facts. Plus, adults are not always right you know, we're often focused on the wrong things, can't see the wood for the trees. Why, I do believe many of us are outright **prejudiced** sometimes! So it really helps to have a child's view on things".

Mrs Weasley decided she could not afford to respond. She gave the two Grangers a disgusted look, and then, muttering to herself, went and sat in a corner, brooding. She didn't even interfere when things got a little noisy during one of the more active games.

The kids had fun though. By the end of the evening Daphne, Susan, and Neville at least had managed to connect quite well. Daphne and Hermione also spent some time with each other, mostly playing Scrabble, alternating with Luna. Susan watched, but she also spent time with Ron and his brothers - they seemed to be really funny guys, and she had no experience with that kind of thing so she had fun.

Harry mingled with everyone, as befitted the birthday boy, and generally had one of the _best_ birthdays. _Ever_ , he thought to himself.

* * *

 **1989-07-31 18:30 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Hobby did not go to Ollivander. Instead, he decided to ask Nick and Penny first, and if they didn't know, then go to Ollivander.

But before even that, now that Kreacher was on floo-guard duty, he needed to go take a look at the kids room. Because the Phantom was still - to people like Molly anyway - someone to be feared, or at least someone to be suspicious of, he switched back to Hobby. This was also to prevent awkward questions if one of the visiting adults decided to come to the kids' room.

* * *

By this time, Hermione was bored. The games were fine, but there was a huge wavelength mismatch between Harry and Hermione on the one hand, and the Weasleys, Daphne, and Susan on the other. Neville, mainly due to the fact that he and Harry had met before, though not in the muggle world, was not so badly off, and Luna, sweetheart that she was, would be comfortable anywhere as long as no one was mean to her.

So, after some not-so-successful attempts at various games (like musical chairs, statues, and so on), she had caved and given Harry the green light. He had beamed at her for letting the party move from "games" mode to "movie" mode, and instantly popped in his favourite movie.

She _did_ like the movie they were watching - for the first two or three times she had seen it. But Harry absolutely loved it, and it only took **one** new person in the audience before he felt he had an excuse to trot it out. She, on the other hand, needed a much longer gap between one viewing and the next in order for her to be able to enjoy it.

(It hadn't helped that Hobby told her - in a whispered aside the last time they had watched the movie - that Harry was a bit like the protagonist of the movie, at least in the sense of jumping into dangerous situations without a plan. So now she had even more reason to worry when Harry invariably chose that movie to watch!)

What made things worse was Harry liked to mouth the actors' lines before they actually spoke. She had to glare at him each time he mouthed "son of a bitch" to the on-screen Belloq, though that didn't really stop him - he just grinned at her! And of course, the line "I don't believe in magic", always got them chuckling.

Finally, a bit over half way into the movie, Ron Weasley caught a line spoken by Marion - _the whole place is slithering_ \- and he and his brothers fell about in laughter. Harry and Hermione had never had any prejudice instilled in them (even Sirius would not try to malign Slytherin House as a whole, not after what his own brother Regulus had done to redeem himself), so they just waited patiently, Harry's finger on the pause button, for Ron to calm down.

Some few minutes after this, Hermione noticed Hobby beckoning to her from the door. She grabbed the opportunity to get up and walk out of the room so she could chat with Hobby for a while.

"How's the party going, Hermione?"

"It's going well, Hobby. Where did Kreacher disappear to suddenly, and why is he not back?"

"I think Sirius suddenly realised the floo does not have a password, so he put him on floo duty. Anyway your mother and Mrs Weasley are both here, which should be more than enough supervision", said Hobby. "And speaking of... how is Mrs Weasley behaving?"

She giggled, before she sat down, had him sit down, and told him the whole story.

Hobby had a good laugh too. If it weren't for the seriousness of the events in the other part of the house, which - thank God - the kids did not know, he would have loved to stay here with the kids. Maybe watch a little TV. See Luna happy and laughing gaily. See Hermione and Harry without a care in the world.

 _But an elf-man's gotta do what an elf-man's gotta do_ , he thought.

* * *

 **1989-07-31 19:00 UTC, location unknown**

"Hello Hobby, is the party over?", asked Penny.

Nick and Penny had left shortly before 4pm, when the other guests were expected. Pandora was family, but the others need not know of their involvement with Harry and his family, or indeed even that they were in the country. In any case, Penny was still keyed up about Dumbledore _possibly_ having murdered her god-daughter, even if it was in some other timeline that they would now be taking extra pains to prevent.

"It's winding down. But something happened. We got attacked, but the attacker got taken down so fast the kids don't even know something happened, so don't worry."

"Who was the attacker?", asked Nick. He did not need to ask who took the attacker down.

"Arabietta Edgecombe, from the ministry's floo network department. We don't know yet what her grudge was, but in my past life she was known to be a sympathiser of the death-eaters, and her daughter ratted us out to Umbridge at one point", said Hobby.

"Actually", he continued, "she's a good example of the problem of dealing with all the sympathisers in the ministry, and there are supposed to be many of them - I don't even know who they are or how many. We'll need a way to flush them out".

"But that's not why you are here", said Nick. He knew the discussion of Pandora's death and Dumbledore's role in it was still pending.

"Yes. Luna's mum is one thing. But something curious happened today when I was taking down Edgecombe, and I wanted to ask you if you knew enough about wands to tell me what happened and why".

"Well, we don't know as much as Ollivander does, but we know plenty. What exactly happened? Be as detailed as you can..."

"Wait", said Penny. "Understand that I'm postponing the Dumbledore discussion _only_ because Sirius, Remus, and Pandora are not here, otherwise I could care less about some wand, over my god-daughter's life".

Nick gave her a sideways hug to show support. "That's true, but also, it's a more long term problem. Even if Sirius, Remus, and Pandora were here, we would not have taken any visible action right away".

Penny huffed. Hobby smiled.

"So, back to the wand thing", prodded Nick.

"Well, this woman who attacked us, she had her wand raised, and a reducto curse on her lips. Things were happening too fast for anyone else to react - Sirius was in no position to dodge far enough. We're talking split-second here. Only an elf could have done what I did - I just popped in front of her and grabbed the wand out of her hand".

"And then", he continued, "I made the mistake of _staying_ there".

"Oh no, don't tell me a part of the curse hit you!", said Penny. Although to be honest he looked absolutely fine and not like he'd suffered any damage lately.

"No. The curse blew up her hand, and I was showered with bits of blood, bone, and assorted stuff like that. So now the question is, what the hell happened there, and does anyone know if it can be reliably repeated".

"Why would you want to repeat it?"

"OK here's my half-baked theory. The magic is collected from the body, and pools in the lower arm. The pool of magic is then shaped into a specific curse, and then it leaves the arm by way of the wand. All this happens in a split-second, at some point after the witch or wizard _decides_ to use a certain spell, but before the spell is complete. Completing the spell is only opening the channel to exit, and that's when _we_ see it."

Nick thought for a bit. "OK, sounds good so far, and certainly jells with my experience when I am casting curses. And if this is true, it means the _already shaped_ magic now has no outlet, and it does its thing right where it has been left?"

"Something like that!"

"It should be easy enough to test, shouldn't it? Just use some benign spell, maybe a warming charm?"

"I wasn't sure, plus my physiology - who knows how it actually is inside, when I turn into a wizard."

"Which brings me back to my original question: why are you trying to repeat it? What's interesting about it?"

Hobby grinned maliciously. "Let's try what you said, first, please? Try a warming charm. Just for practice, don't hold the wand too tight".

Nick took his wand off the side table, pointed it at Hobby, and muttered the charm. Hobby pulled the wand out of his hand a fraction of a second before Nick completed the words.

Nick stayed in that position for a few minutes, then frowned. "I feel nothing", he said.

Hobby was surprised, and not a little disappointed.

"We know it worked once, with a reducto curse. Why doesn't it work with a warming charm?"

"Maybe it only works for curses? I can tell you the feeling I get when casting anything benign is at least somewhat different from what I feel when casting a proper curse".

Hobby turned into the Phantom and concentrated, wand out, for a bit. Nothing.

Either - as he supposed earlier - his physiology was different or he just could not focus sufficiently.

"You look very disappointed, Hobby", said Nick.

"I was hoping to develop this into a combat tactic, but I guess we can't actually test it. No one wants to lose an arm for an experiment!"

Penny wasn't too unhappy. "I would guess the days when we might have feared attacks by several death-eaters acting in concert, are behind us. Most of them are gone, and I suspect Edgecombe and her ilk - the dregs around the periphery - are all that's left".

"Don't jinx it, Penny", Nick said with a smile. "There are still a few of them out there, right, Hobby?"

Hobby just nodded. It looked like he'd have to meet Ollivander after all. For now, he filed this away as something to follow up later, and moved on to thinking about how to get the last of the sympathisers out.

Hobby said his goodbyes to Nick and Penny, and went back to Kithurst Close.

* * *

Additional AN: this time, _two_ authors I really like, reviewed. Wow! And I learned about the inverse of Dunning-Kruger from the most erudite of _all_ my favourite authors!


	44. Chapter 44: The big question

Chapter 44: The big question

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1989-08-01 10:00 UTC, location unknown**

Hobby, Sirius, and Remus were at Nick and Penny's place shortly after breakfast. Of course they could not have kept Harry from visiting his aunt Penny and uncle Nick if he had insisted, and that _would_ have made this discussion a little more difficult, indeed almost impossible, considering the kids did not know any of this.

But he had not; he was happy to spend the time with Hermione - they'd probably be discussing their party, the other kids, whatever. Hermione's parents would not be home for some of the time, but they trusted the kids enough to not worry about that, and anyway Sirius had asked Kreacher to keep a discreet eye on them.

"Hobby told us what happened after we left; it seems we have _two_ things to discuss?", said Penny.

"Yup. Three if you count the curious incident of the hand exploding after the wand was removed".

"Well, we went over that yesterday", said Hobby. He then repeated his theory, and explained how they had tried it with a warming charm and Nick had not felt anything unusual. "So, short of asking Ollivander, this is a dead-end, unless you want to keep Poppy Pomfrey on hand and experiment", he grinned.

Wisely, no one was that desperate to check out an obscure bit of potential wandlore.

"So that leaves us with Dumbledore, and Edgecombe", said Sirius. "Edgecombe first, I suggest".

"Best to get it done. There's not a lot to discuss anyway. I knew there were a lot of sympathisers, and as I said earlier she almost certainly was one of them - shutting down the floo when attacking someone was standard fare, as you all know from the first war, so she must have been involved. She'll get her just desserts, Amelia will make sure of that, but the question is, how do we tell Amelia to look deeper in the ministry, without revealing my unique perspective?"

"Seer excuse again?", suggested Remus.

"Could work. Almost certainly will, actually. But only if it's framed in the right context and with the right incentive. Can we find anyone else? Do you know anyone else who may be one? That would make the case much stronger!"

"Well, Albert Runcorn, for sure. He's not a death-eater as far as I know, and I can't believe I did not think of him till now, but he's sort of a male Umbridge, without the annoying voice."

"But more than that", he continued, "the plain fact is, the whole ministry was so corrupt that anyone who toed the ministry line _blindly_ , can potentially be a death-eater sympathiser. The best example is Percy Weasley. To this day I do not know if he was merely a misguided, brown-nosing, fool, or he was at least a blood supremacist, if not worse", said Hobby.

"Actually that's a good point: it should all come down to blood supremacy. Anyone who believes that purebloods are inherently superior, are at least potential Voldemort sympathisers. Even if they did not actually do anything in your timeline, they would do so if they had the opportunity", said Sirius.

Noting Remus's look of mild disapproval, he explained. "Look at this way Remus. If all they did was shut off the floo at a specific time, without asking for details, did they actually commit murder? As far as they are concerned, they did something quite trivial and, for people who can apparate, causes only minor inconvenience. Even if they are human enough to rationalise away their deeds by thinking like this, it is clear that, going by who would have asked them to do this, and other details, they know someone is going to be trapped in their home as a result of their actions".

Hobby took up the argument. "In all likelihood, it's only the opportunity to do something that distinguishes one blood-supremacist from another - someone like Edgecombe versus someone, say, in the department of international magical co-operation, which has very little, if any, say in anything domestic", he said.

"Getting back to Amelia, we don't have to use the seer excuse if we're informing her of one more confirmed sympathiser. The only problem is Runcorn has not done anything wrong yet, so her hands will be tied."

"He may not have to do anything wrong. I believe Amelia is already forcing Edgecombe's trial to use veritaserum, and ask what she did pre-1981. If something comes out of that, she will also ask who else was involved, and in what way they were involved. Maybe Runcorn's name will come up there", said Sirius.

"And if it doesn't?"

"How bad is Runcorn actually?", asked Nick.

Hobby narrated to him his own knowledge of Runcorn - the episode of Cattermole's muggle-born wife and how Runcorn had taunted Cattermole. It was extremely clear he was a blood supremacist.

"In fact", concluded Hobby, "now that I think about it, he was the second _non_ -death-eater who probably had a body count close to actual death-eaters. Can we take the chance that that was limited to Umbridge and Runcorn? Isn't it reasonable to assume that there would be at least a few more in the ministry? Wouldn't they be planning anything? If Amelia cannot bring him in, shouldn't the Phantom just do that, and we interrogate him ourselves?"

Penny had to sound a note of caution. "What will you do if he _is_ found guilty of what you suspect, and is actively spreading hate? That still won't give Amelia enough to bring him in. In fact, you may end up embarrassing Amelia if your illegal kidnap and interrogation comes out."

"And besides", added Nick, "you promised Amelia Dolohov was a special case, and you would not do anything illegal once she became Minister. How does kidnapping and questioning Runcorn square with that?"

"It doesn't", said Hobby, somewhat morosely, after staying silent a few beats. "Unless we can trap him in some way into revealing his nature by _actually_ doing something".

"Look, how long is this going to go on? There's no end to this. Is it too much to expect that anyone who works at the ministry should be fair to all its citizens, without any discrimination?"

While the others continued to debate how best to manage this, Sirius sat back, thinking.

If the aurors who had found him laughing had done the right thing that November day in 1981, he would not have been sent to Azkaban. His godson would have grown up with him, safe and happy. Well he was safe and happy now, but he had suffered - somewhat - for a few years.

And yet, murderers had walked free at the same time, probably even that same day that he had been thrown in prison.

The whole system was screwed up. There was absolutely no accountability then, and even now only a few posts were filled with good people. If they turned bad, however unlikely that may be, their world would once again be on the brink of war, extinction, or exposure.

They had magic - why couldn't they use magic to enforce the correct behaviour? _Obviously_ , he snorted to himself, _because the purebloods want to retain the license to selectively flout rules!_

He vaguely remembered something he heard on some TV program, likely something historical. Something to the effect that "selective enforcement of the law is the first sign of tyranny". _Or was it fascism_ , he thought. _Either way, this could not go on!_

He'd need to think about this...

* * *

 **1989-08-01 09:00 UTC, DMLE Offices**

While these momentous debates were going on in parts unknown, Amelia had had Edgecombe brought from her holding cell to an interrogation room.

Normally, it was not the minister's job to interrogate anyone - in fact the safety protocols required that she should not even be in the same room, and ideally not even in the same floor. (The reason? Way back in the '40s, an attempt to rescue one of Grindelwald's senior-most officers had gone so horribly wrong that an entire floor of the building had nearly been destroyed, with the then sitting Minister nearly had had his head crushed by a falling piece of masonry!)

But this was different. First of all, all indications were that no one even knew Edgecombe had been arrested. Her daughter appeared to be away on holiday with a friend and her family, and her husband was out of the country on business.

More importantly, Amelia's sister-in-law and niece were in the house when this woman had attempted her attack. There was **no** way she would be keeping her distance on this.

Edgecombe was brought in, and Amelia had to admit she looked like hell. Apart from the lost right arm, now just a six-inch stub from her right shoulder, it seemed some of her aurors had evidently roughed her up a bit - the thought that there were several children in the house that she had attacked, and that she had **known** it was a children's party (temporary floo connections had to have a reason, and Sirius had seen no reason to hide that), was considered a bit too much, especially in these peaceful times. (No doubt, if Fudge was still in charge, she would have gotten away!)

Amelia started her investigation like a blunt instrument - no preamble, no "softening up" the suspect, no small talk. Not even - for the record - asking her name. She did not want to give this woman any of the normal courtesies. Basically, treat her like the dirtiest dregs of Knockturn, rather than a ministry employee and colleague in some sense.

She held out the veritaserum, saying nothing. Edgecombe looked defiant, so - still without a word - forced Edgecombe's nose shut with a spell and waited. It only took a few seconds; Edgecombe opened her mouth, Amelia threw in a few drops (probably a lot more than the legal maximum, but she would claim Edgecombe was being obstructive).

"Who else knew you were going to do what you did yesterday?"

"No one."

"How long have you been planning this?"

"Since that blood-traitor applied for a temporary floo connection."

So, a couple of days or so, if she remembered correctly.

"What were you planning to do?"

"I was planning to execute the blood-traitor and his half-blood ward."

This took it to straight-up attempted murder of a sitting Wizengamot Lord, not to mention a young child who was not even of Hogwarts age yet.

"How were you planning to do it?"

"A reductor at Black, and I hadn't thought of what to do with Potter. Maybe a wide area explosion, if I could not get close enough to him for anything more focused".

One of the aurors in the room gasped. The others grew even more pissed off.

"Did you know there were other children there?"

"Yes."

"Were you willing to risk the lives of all those other children also?"

"They're all blood-traitors anyway."

"If you had the chance, would you kill them, even if Harry Potter was not in the group?"

"I do not know". Evidently, there was enough ambiguity in her mind that the potion could not force a categorical answer.

Amelia tried a different tack. "If you had known only that my niece and Madam Longbottom's nephew were with Harry Potter, would you still risk a wide area explosion curse?"

"Yes". No hesitation.

Amelia moved the conversation over.

"Who else knew you were going to do what you did yesterday?". Yes, this was a repeat, but the mind of someone under the truth potion sometimes needed a bit of time to switch topics. Repeating a question often helped with that.

"No one."

"Who else _might_ have known?"

"I do not know".

"Who else may have _guessed_?"

"I do not know".

Amelia motioned to the auror who had the recording quill. With a quick charm, the quill was stopped in its tracks, waiting to be restarted.

"Who else in the ministry would do something like this, if they had the opportunity to do so?" Amelia knew neither this question nor its answer would wash with the Wizengamot - she may even lose the main case. Fudge was gone, but something so open-ended as this was not going to be appreciated, regardless of how damning the results might be.

Edgecombe did not reply. Apparently guesswork was not part of the potion's effects.

Sighing, Amelia closed off with a very important question. "Did you help the death-eaters' cause, or Lord Voldemort's cause in any way during the years 1977 to 1981?"

Edgecombe was silent again. This meant she could not answer yes or no, usually because the question had some ambiguity in what was actually being asked. In this case, for instance, if she merely suspected that some of the requests she got were to aid the death-eaters, but did not actually _know_ , she could neither say "yes" nor could she say "no". The question would have to be rephrased.

Fortunately, she had prepared for this. She had set a young auror on a mind-numbingly boring task last night, and the results were in hand.

"Records show that between November 1st, 1980 and October 31, 1981, there were 220 temporary floo shutdowns. The following year, there were **three**. Just three. Who requested most of those 220 shutdowns during that period?"

"Lucius Malfoy".

Damn! A dead-end. She wished he was still alive now.

"Did you actually carry out most of them?"

"All of them".

"Even though most of them were to locations that Malfoy had no connection with?"

"Yes".

"Did you know people would die because of your actions?"

"Yes".

 _Oh well, we get at least one death-eater sympathiser sentenced, hopefully to death_ , thought Amelia.

Further investigation did not get them any useful results. Not even Runcorn's name - which she was specifically told to watch for - came up. It seemed there were a lot of watertight compartments in the metaphorical death-eater ship, and the only man who had access to several of them was now dead.

* * *

 **1989-08-01 11:00 UTC, location unknown**

Meanwile, Sirius had been thinking to himself, wondering how to ensure the ministry was staffed only - or at least mostly - with honest people.

The others had moved on to a much more heated discussion. Penny and Hobby on one side, Nick on the other, with Remus somewhat ambivalent.

Penny had switched the topic from Edgecombe and the ministry and Amelia and Runcorn, to something she had been chafing at the bit since last night to discuss.

"What do we do about Dumbledore? I want to skin him alive, and then boil him in a vat of oil".

Hobby stared at her in shock. He was equally angry at Dumbledore, but Penny had never spoken like this. Clearly, her god-daughter was very precious to her.

"OK I'm only joking. Waste of oil, anyway", she said, half-pouting.

"What about skinning him alive?"

"That would still happen".

Nick decided to put a stop to it. "Enough, you two. You have no evidence that this **actually** happened even in Hobby's past life. You have no reason to believe he might do the same now. So you're judging him for something that, not only has he not done yet, but he might not do, **and** he may not have done in a past life! That's stretching it way too far!"

Hobby and Penny clearly were not impressed. Oh they agreed with the logic, they just didn't agree with the conclusion.

"What if we used veritaserum on him?", asked Hobby.

"What would you ask him? 'Did you kill Pandora in my past life?'", asked Nick, a bit testily.

"No", said Hobby patiently, though he was a bit miffed at Nick's tone. "How about: 'Are you planning to kill Pandora Lovegood?'".

"Depends. Does he know anything about Pandora's work at all? I asked Pandora, and she said she did not see any reason why he might know. She's an unspeakable; she knows how to keep things quiet. The only reason she went to, or probably went to, Dumbledore in your past life is to get access to you to run some tests."

"OK, we'll ask him, 'If Pandora came to you with a plan to remove the horcrux from Harry's scar, would you kill her?'"

Penny sighed. "Won't work Hobby. Too hypothetical. It's bloody hard to frame a question that's concrete enough for him to answer under the truth serum."

"What does that mean?"

"Let me put it this way", interjected Remus. "The truth serum forces people to answer questions, but it _literally_ only cares about the truth. In order to preserve 'truth', it actively prevents people from thinking too deeply, forming conjectures or hypothesising, or giving subjective opinions. It's impossible to ask a hypothetical question and get an answer".

"Oh". Hobby was silent.

"How about we lay a trap for him?"

"What kind of trap?", growled Penny. This contentious issue was causing several - hopefully minor - rifts within this extended family, it would seem.

Hobby held up both his hands in surrender. He stammered a bit at the anger in Penny's eyes, and said "what if the Phantom went to him and said he was close to finding a way to fix this, but needed some help completing the potion or whatever".

"Depends. The Phantom is someone to be feared, Pandora isn't anyone's idea of a fearsome witch. You can't extrapolate from his reaction to one, to get an idea of how he would react to the other."

"OK, how about-"

Penny glared at Hobby and interrupted. "I sincerely hope you were not intending to use Pandora herself to lay the trap?"

"Well, not directly, but a polyjuiced version, yes. Pandora, Xeno, and Luna often go off on trips - or at least that is what I remember my timeline's Luna telling me once. Just keep that quiet so he doesn't know they've left, then I take polyjuice as her and go ask him. If Nick can come along secretly, he may be able to pick up Dumbledore's surface thoughts at the time I ask the question".

Nick still did not like the idea. "That would still be just a hypothesis."

"No, I'd force him into taking some action."

"And if he attempts to kill you, you'd know, is that it?"

"Yes".

"And then what? Are you willing to kill him for this?"

Hobby sighed.

"Look Nick, for many years, I idolised the man. He was everything I wanted to be when I got that old. But the last year or two, was a revelation. Too many gaps, too many missed opportunities, too much time wasted. And then the whole idea that he didn't even force a trial for Sirius while he did the exact opposite for Snape has been really biting me. Why didn't I realise that in my 3rd year? I don't know, but he's upto a lot more tricks than any of us can guess at".

"All this is still circumstantial, Hobby. I'm sure he had his reasons. Sure he would have made a few mistakes, but are you suggesting he's actively evil?"

"I wouldn't have said that, until we met Remus in this timeline. Remus was brilliant - he'd worked out a fool-proof, or rather Dumbledore-poof, way of finding Harry and at least figuring out how he was doing, if not more. All this was done in a timeline that absolutely could **not** have been affected by my return as Hobby. So what happened in _my_ timeline? Why did Remus not find me?"

"We discussed this yesterday", said Remus. "Pandora said he must have obliviated me and sent me on my way, making me think I was still dependent on him and others' kindness even for basic necessities like food and shelter". He almost sounded bitter, as if that has really happened to him.

Nick pounced on that. " **Exactly** ", he half-shouted. "I can well believe Dumbledore would have obliviated Pandora, in fact I'm pretty sure he would have - no need to even check. Why would he kill someone, when the same result can be achieved by a simpler method?"

"Maybe he knew Pandora had backup copies of her notes somewhere, which would help her regain her memory later, and then she would even remember going to Dumbledore, but then forgetting why and what happened there?", asked Hobby.

"No. It's simpler than that. Pandora has been working on this for more than a few years. You can't obliviate all that without leaving large holes in her memory".

"Then how could he do that for me", asked Remus.

"Simple. The holes in your memory are muggle interactions. Plus you're a werewolf. He could fill those gaps with drunken hazes. Gaps in your muggle interactions don't count - as long as you don't go back to the muggle world and make someone ask 'hey Remus where have you been' or some such thing, no one is the wiser. Not so with Pandora - he'd have to obliviate Xeno and Luna also, to be absolutely safe", said Penny.

"Why would they be involved in Pandora's research?"

"They wouldn't. But to fill the gaps in Pandora's memories, he has to use something, and that should not - later - be found to clash with what Xeno remembers or what Luna remembers".

Nick was still not convinced, but he did not say anything. He had said his piece. He knew Penny would not follow through on this - this was just 'heat of the moment' talk. And if she didn't, neither would Hobby. _Although, if a safe way of finding out what Dumbledore actually_ _ **will**_ _do, turns up..._ , he thought.

* * *

AN: Funny side note. My son (in real life), reviewed recently. Considering the nickname he always uses, it was very hard to resist responding to it! After all, how often do you get to start a message with "Vader, I am your father" :)


	45. Chapter 45: Last one down?

Chapter 45: Last one down?

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1989-08-02 13:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

Sirius returned from the trial just about lunch time. He was disappointed, and looked it.

"What happened? She didn't know anything?", asked Remus. He had a job to do tonight for a client, so he was relaxing for now.

"No", grumbled Sirius. "Amelia spent a fair bit of time with her yesterday morning. Despite her best efforts, even with truth serum, she didn't _categorically_ know anyone else who was involved except Malfoy. He was pretty much her only contact, and he's beyond asking now. Maybe we should have asked him more questions while we had him on the stands, but we had already gotten so much out of him, it was hard to imagine even more coming out".

"I also think a big part of it was everyone being so disgusted at what he was saying they just wanted to get him out of their sight. Permanently!"

"I guess", sighed Sirius as he sat down.

"Did she explain why she did it? How long had she been planning it? Although that should be impossible, since we did not know until a couple of days before the party that we would be applying for a temporary floo connection".

"Exactly. This was very clearly a spur of the moment thing - she said so under truth serum, plus it fits all the facts. Motivation is another story; apparently she blames us for Dolohov's death".

"Dolohov? Is he her cousin or something? Why would that bother her?"

"Well, Amelia saw no need to make this part of the record - no need to make her innocent husband feel borderline-cuckolded on top of everything else - but apparently she had long had a crush on Dolohov. Of course truth serum is not conducive to reasoning and debate, so no one bothered to remind her that he was the aggressor."

He switched gears from the frustrating subject. "Harry not back yet?"

"No, I think they're having some other kids over from the school; seemed like an impromptu party. They just met when they all went shopping this morning and decided on-the-spot that lunch would be at the Grangers!", laughed Remus.

"I'm glad he's having fun. I have no clue what his life will be like when he starts Hogwarts".

"Didn't Hobby tell you? He's going to be shadowing him all through. He also intends to liberate the map from the twins to help".

"Is he going to claim to be one of the marauders?"

"Probably", grinned Remus. "The important thing is, he will make sure there are no surprises. And you know elves are plenty in Hogwarts - no one will find it unusual to see one more".

"Unless Dumbledore recognises him".

"Hence the map".

"Remind him the portraits and ghosts are also problematic. They may not recognise him as anything different from the other elves, but if they see him constantly reading a map, they will report it".

"He says that's no problem. He knows some room where he can hide out, and no one will find him. That'll be his base. Anyway, enough planning for something that is still two years away".

"Speaking of Hobby, where is he?"

"He's with the kids, but staying out of sight".

"He's getting bored isn't he? He's come close to the end of his self-imposed task, there are very few death-eaters around, we're just scraping the bottom of the barrel right now. Not at all a challenge anymore!", said Sirius.

"Yes. Though I would not under-estimate the bottom of the barrel - isn't that where Edgecombe came from?", cautioned Remus.

"Which brings us nicely back to the disappointing trial today. How do we find others? You know, I think it'd be simplest if Hobby just hangs around the place at random times, listening in on conversations".

"That'd be creepy", said Remus. "Though if it's the only way..."

"It's the only way to find out who may be a problem. But unless they do an Edgecombe, we still won't have enough for a trial, far less a life sentence. So they'll come back at some point, and if by that time we have forgotten about them, well, then... bang! ...they get us from behind. Figuratively speaking".

* * *

 **1990-02-25 09:00 UTC, Kithurst Close**

A few months had gone by, and finally it was time for the first set of tests to be run.

Pandora, now that she had met both Harry, and his guardian, and that too a lot earlier than she was originally planning, had buckled down to her theoretical and practical work with gusto. She was determined to get her friend's son free of this problem. And while she was not sure if Dumbledore had a hand in her death in the other timeline, at the very least the old bastard deserved to be kicked in his nuts for ignoring Harry's problem completely - and possibly even attempting to manipulate that unique circumstance in some manner detrimental to the little boy.

As a result of her new-found additional enthusiasm and inspiration, her remaining research had gone faster and she had called Sirius a couple of days ago asking him if he could bring Harry in the following Sunday.

When it came to telling Harry, the adults knew enough not to keep the macro level details secret from Harry himself. Hobby was especially insistent on this - far too many times (he had said) he had been left out of the loop, often causing problems, and one-time an actual, honest-to-goodness, **disaster**.

As for Hermione, well, as everyone knew by then, if you told Harry, Hermione would know soon anyway so you may as well tell them both together.

It then fell to Sirius, with Penny as backup (and Hobby hovering around the periphery) to tell them.

The conversation proved to be interesting, in more ways than one.

The kids did not, of course, know anything about horcruxes. But it could not be denied that Harry had a scar that occasionally troubled him, that would not heal as expected, or at least would not stay healed, occasionally bursting out and bleeding a bit before settling down again. So the topic was not difficult to broach.

"Harry, Hermione, there's something we need to talk about; could you please join me in the living room after breakfast?" asked Sirius.

The kids were almost done anyway so they rushed through what little was left. ("What do you think this is about?" whispered Harry. "Do you think we are in trouble?" To which Hermione replied "It didn't sound like it. In fact Sirius appeared a tad nervous. Maybe _they_ are in trouble with us!" giggled Hermione).

Sirius started in without much preamble as soon as they walked in and settled themselves down. Harry's nervousness was eased when he pulled him onto his lap. If he had been brought up normally, a boy of this age would have squirmed at this, but Harry was - despite the last few years - not yet ready to give up or take for granted such affectionate gestures.

He did smile a sheepish smile at Hermione, who grinned back and sat down next to him and Sirius, on the side facing Harry. Penny was in the seat opposite. (Normally _she_ would be the one with Harry on her lap, but this time she felt it was good to have Sirius do this). Hobby was also around, but the kids did not know, and he was keeping himself invisible.

"OK there is something we need to do today, but I don't want you to worry about it OK?" said Sirius.

"That's the best way to get us worried, Sirius", said Hermione calmly.

Sirius face-palmed, then resumed. "Has your scar been hurting you more of late?" he asked Harry.

"A little. Just barely noticeably."

"Well, we have been worried about that scar for a few years now, and - even though we did not know this till last year some time, it seems Aunt Pandora had been working on the problem for some years now."

"OK", said Harry hesitantly. Simultaneously, Hermione asked, "What do you mean 'worried about it for a few years now'? Is it something bad? Why would you worry about a scar, even if it wasn't healing properly? None of the medical texts in mom and dad's office indicated anything serious."

Without pausing for breath, she turned to Harry. With a somewhat apologetic look, she said "Look I didn't want you to worry. After the third time it happened, I read up on what could be the cause. I ruled out low platelet counts and nutrition problems - that may have been true in 1986 or 1987 but not anymore. I thought it might be hemophilia, but then you had that other wound when you fell off the bike and it healed up pretty fast, so I was confused again. So I just assumed you'd been scrat-"

"Hold on, Hermione! I didn't understand many of the words you used there, I'm sure only adults - and doctors at that - could have!" said Harry. "But thank you for caring so much!" He gave her a big smile, and she returned it with a faint blush at the thanks and the praise.

Sirius cleared his throat. Lately, the kids would often just take over the conversation, and then continue it among themselves, often seeming to forget the adults were in the same room!

"Pandora needs to run some tests on it, that's all".

"OK, why? What's so special about this scar, except Harry probably scratches it once in a while".

"Umm, I'm sorry Mione, I don't!"

That appeared to throw Hermione off. Evidently she had been depending on that as the most benign explanation. She now turned a much more worried face to Sirius. "Tell me Luna's mum knows what's wrong and how to fix it!"

"She will be running some tests today, tests that will confirm or disprove some theories she has been working on for some time. After that, we will know for sure".

"Well then let's go, what are we waiting for?" she asked anxiously.

Penny dropped a hand gently on the girl's shoulder, causing her to look up.

"That's planned for this afternoon, dear", she said. "Meanwhile, it would not do for either you or Harry to get worried about it. Please calm down", she said. She gave a short nod towards Harry - so short and brief that only Hermione caught it.

One look at her friend and she forced herself to calm down. He was, as he had every right to be, even more worried about what was going on. They were each other's support, so if she fell to pieces, that would not help him at all.

Nodding her thanks to Penny with a smile, she turned to Sirius. In a much calmer voice, she asked, "What exactly is this scar, Sirius?"

Pushing the boundaries of what they had decided to tell the children, Sirius replied. "It may be some dark magic, Hermione, and once we find out what it is, we can get it removed".

"Why wasn't it done till now?"

"We didn't realise it could be-" - he was going to say "bad" but stopped himself in time - "dark magic. But now Pandora is helping, we'll deal with it, no matter what it is".

Hermione, recognising that any further questions would go back to making her - and Harry - worry, wisely stopped.

It was a sign of how worried Harry already was, that he did not notice the absence of the usual Hermione-barrage of questions.

* * *

 **1990-02-25 13:00 UTC, The Lovegood Home**

"Pandora, you said last year at Harry's birthday party that you and Lily had already determined that Voldemort had made other horcruxes. But in my timeline, even Dumbledore was not sure of it until the diary was used to open the chamber of secrets. How did you know?", asked Hobby.

"Aah yes I did say that, didn't I? Well, we all may hate Dumbledore for a lot of things, real and supposed, but he's no dummy. So - if he failed to figure this out - I don't blame you. The plain fact of the matter is, people always under-estimate the unspeakables. We had access to some questionable Egyptian magic that would scan a given area - like a whole country - and tell us if there were any horcruxes there. It was expensive to run, took a heck of a lot of magical power, and was never completely accurate, but it was a decent starting point."

"So how many did you find?"

"I wasn't privy to the details; just the high level picture. In fact, I don't think the device could tell _who_ the horcrux belonged to - by all accounts, _no one_ had ever attempted something so foolish as to do this more than once, so it may well be that the ancient Egyptians who designed it, did not even think of that possibility".

"So how did you guys guess he made more than one?"

"Well, we run that scan about once in twenty years - it's that hard to do, honestly. If the count increases from the last time we ran it, we know someone created some or brought them in from another country. In the last reading, which was just before Luna was due, well... unless we had several dark lords who kept themselves hidden and completely out of the limelight, it was a safe bet they were all the same guy."

"Why the heck couldn't you run it more often?"

"All I know is that it was not possible? I'm not part of the group that handles that magic, sorry Hobby!"

"Hmm... Anyway, what are we doing now?"

"Now, we wait for Sirius to bring Harry in, so I can run some preliminary tests. Remember I developed all the theory for this over the past several years so who knows if I screwed up somewhere! Luckily the test to see if my theory holds is quite simple and safe for Harry so we will know for sure."

* * *

An hour or so later, the large-ish room that served as Pandora's "lab" was crowded beyond belief. Apart from Pandora and Xeno, there were Sirius, Remus, Nick, and Penny. Harry of course was present, and Hermione had insisted on coming along - she had been holding his hand since morning.

No one noticed little Luna, standing quietly behind one of the chairs. Harry, Hermione, and Luna had spent almost an hour catching up, and Hermione had filled Luna in on what she knew.

Luna, in turn, had some thoughts - mostly from quietly listening in when her mother was discussing things with either one of her old colleagues, or - more often - with her husband at breakfast or dinner. Pandora never went to great depths but there was enough.

The upshot of all this would, very shortly, be seen by the adults!

* * *

Harry had been asked to sit in a special chair. To Hermione it looked vaguely similar to one of the dentist chairs her parents used for their patients, except it wasn't reclining so much. It didn't have most of the pneumatic equipment (electrical equipment was out of the question anyway), but curiously, there _was_ a pipe of some kind. It could be a suction hose, or an air/water nozzle - Hermione was not sure. Unlike in muggle equipment, looking at the other end did not tell her anything - she didn't know enough about runes yet to figure that out.

As Pandora approached Harry, a gentle smile on her face, she saw that Penny was on Harry's right, her hand on Harry's right shoulder, in a comforting "I'm right here" grip. Hermione was on his left, his left hand held in both of hers. Sirius was at his head, ruffling his hair.

If anything, all this attention was causing Harry to grow even more nervous. Sure, Hermione, Penny, and Sirius were all people he loved, and who loved him, but having _all_ of them focus on him at the same time was not inspiring any confidence in whatever was going to happen.

Hermione and Pandora both realised this at the same time. Recognising that look in each other, they both decided to shoo away one person.

"Penny, could you move over a bit please, I might need room to work here", said Pandora. Simultaneously, Hermione turned toward Sirius, and - fixing him with a gimlet eye - moved him away. Luckily Sirius understood, and merely smiled at her while moving further away. Hermione calmly took his place, and - just to let Harry know - bent down from above his head so he could see her.

Brazenly (for her anyway) she then dropped a quick kiss on his forehead. Sirius and Remus stared in shock, expecting Harry and Hermione to blush brightly. When neither of them blushed, they were left wondering: was it the seriousness of the situation that made this not a blush-worthy kiss, or had at least this kind of a platonic-looking kiss happened before? (They asked Hermione later, but she just stared at them, narrowed her eyes a bit, then walked away without even answering! _Damn, she knows how to make us feel two feet tall!_ , thought Sirius)

Pandora started her explanation, in a calm, soothing voice, addressing Harry directly.

"Hi Harry! You seem to be a tad worried, but I can tell you we're not actually doing anything right now. Right now, all I want to do is run some tests to see if my theory is right. Once I run the test, I can decide what we need to do. Actually, my test may even tell us we don't need to do anything, which would be great".

"But if we don't do anything, I'll have this scar forever, and it's not like it's a normal scar. I know this is something bad, you don't need to hide it from me. Sirius already told us you were all worrying about it for some time now."

Luna came forward just a bit from where she was not-quite-hiding. "And I've heard enough to know that my mother was in danger", she said to no one in particular.

"How in the world did you find out about that, sweetheart?" asked Pandora.

"I heard you and dad talking one day".

Pandora face-palmed. She smiled apologetically at Harry, and went over to her daughter to give her a hug. When she turned back to Harry's chair, Hobby moved closer to Luna and gave her a sideways hug. "Don't worry", he whispered. "I'll make sure there's no danger for your mum".

"But we still want to know what precisely this scar is and what you plan to do before you start", said Hermione, in a tone that said "and you'd better not hold back anything!"

"Let's all sit down then", said Penny, "and discuss this calmly". She looked at Sirius and Pandora, got a nod from each of them, indicating they were happy to trust her to tell the kids what could be told.

"Yes, there is a dark curse inside Harry's scar. Yes, Voldemort is not dead, and if he comes back, that dark curse might... _wake up_ , in a manner of speaking".

"What would it do if it woke up?" asked Hermione.

Hobby answered. "Nothing major - mainly headaches, visions, and possible possession. But I fought it off OK".

This down-playing did not sit well with Hermione, but she realised that if _Hobby_ was doing the down-playing, there must be a reason. She and Luna looked at each other, and apparently decided to pipe down until they heard more.

After a few moments of quiet, Harry spoke. "Let's get the test over with".

Smiling at Harry, Pandora approached his chair. She had spent years designing this, and working out the runes on it. She charged each of the protective barriers (which, together, looked like a curved head rest made of three pieces joined seamlessly, and was even cushioned. She pulled up a sheet, with more runes stitched on it (this must have taken quite a lot of time, thought Hobby), covering Harry from his feet all the way up to just under his chin, then set to work.

After a few chants, she started smiling, which made everyone feel relieved. She made a few more sweeps with her wand, when an image floated up. Only she could make out what that image represented, but she smiled even more and stopped her chanting and turned around.

In a puzzled but happy voice, she addressed Sirius and Penny. "This is a lot easier than I expected. It seems I will be able to remove it right now. No danger of any kind. We can just pull it right out. I even have the receptacle ready".

"What kind of a receptacle is it?" asked Hobby.

"It's runic, of course - almost everything I do is with runes, unless it's charms. It's designed to hold a so-" - and Sirius coughed loudly and almost violently to stop her.

Harry, Hermione, and Luna once again looked at each other, and once again decided to let things go. For now.

"OK, I can then take it to the veil room and pop it in", said Hobby.

Hermione was frantically beckoning to Hobby, and they, along with Luna, went into a huddle at Harry's chair - where he was still sitting.

After a few minutes of whispered conversation, they all turned around.

Hobby spoke for all of them.

"Call Dumbledore. We want him to see this while it's happening".


	46. Chapter 46: Last one down!

Chapter 46: Last one down!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1990-02-25 15:30 UTC, The Lovegood Home**

Of course, there were objections.

Sirius jumped in head-first. "Why do you want _him_ here? Isn't it enough what we think he did. So yeah, we can't prove it or retaliate in any way, and that I understand, but why are we cosying up to him?"

Remus also looked to be in the same mood, but he didn't say anything. He was thinking.

Surprisingly, it was Hermione that stepped forward, while Hobby gave her a very fond smile of encouragement.

"We kids don't know the whole story that you do, but we have Luna with us, so let's not under-estimate how much we know", she started with a grin.

"Whatever it is that may have happened, it seems apparent that it was because of Dumbledore not knowing what _really_ was going on, not caring to find out, and not caring even that there _were_ people who knew more than he did. Is that close enough?"

Sirius and Remus looked at Hobby. "Just what exactly have you been telling the kids?", they asked in an accusing tone.

Hobby held up his hands, palms forward. "Nothing much at all, really. I'm actually vaguely surprised Hermione managed to come this far in her reading of the problem. Even with Luna's help".

Hermione would not let them change focus. "Look, it doesn't matter how we know. We know, and we know quite a bit. But back to what I was saying... assuming I was right, Dumbledore needs to **know** that this problem has been solved. Do you want to be in a situation where, not knowing this has happened, he does whatever it is he did to Hobby earlier? Perversely, I'm willing to bet it'll be worse than what happened to Hobby. There, he had his Harry firmly under his control, so there was no need for any extreme measures. Here, he doesn't, and won't. And he knows it. What if he does something much more aggressive than we ever imagined? Do you think I will stand by and let him do anything that might hurt Harry?"

Harry was already standing next to her and already had his right arm wrapped around her, so he just pulled her a wee bit closer, with a soft smile.

 _Oh yeah, things are going just as I was hoping_ , grinned Hobby to himself.

Luna took up the argument. "All we want is to make sure Dumbledore knows that Harry has no trace of anything in his scar. We need to _reduce_ his interest in Harry as much as possible, and in as many ways as possible".

"I intend to be as unobtrusive as I can during my years there", said Harry. "I have no wish to be 'challenged' in any way, in any year, more than any other student. And if that means we get Dumbledore off my back in one very important aspect **today** , then so be it. He can't do anything to me _here_ , with all of you around!"

Sirius looked at Nick and Penny.

"Makes sense. We should have thought of it ourselves, if I were to be honest with myself", said Nick.

"The only question that remains is, should we stay or disappear?" said Penny.

The ancient - albeit not ancient _looking_ \- couple looked at each other for a few seconds, then turned to the group.

"If it's all the same to you all, we'll go back home. I'm sure the Phantom is more than capable of handling any unexpected overtures from our erstwhile student and friend".

Hobby nodded. Penny gave a massive hug to Harry, kissed him on both cheeks _and_ on the top of his head, then did the same to Pandora, and then Luna. Meanwhile, Nick was tousling Harry's bird's nest of hair, and softly telling him something - probably words of encouragement?

Penny had, by then, turned to Hermione and given her an extra long hug. "I never told you this, dear, but I am sooo glad he met you, Hermione. You are so good for our Harry in so many ways, I can't tell you how happy I am that you are his friend", she whispered into her ear, while Hermione blushed at the praise.

Harry, meanwhile, looked half-pleadingly at Penny. "I wish you could stay, but I know it's not a good idea", he sighed.

"You know, I've been thinking about this. Why exactly do you need to go? What are we worried about?", said Hobby.

"Well, we did discuss this once, a long time ago", said Penny. "If Dumbledore connects us with you, Sirius, Remus, and Harry, he will also connect us with almost everything that has happened in Harry's life so far. Some of which, it will then become clear to him, we had a hand in." Although she was not saying it, the main point was the imperious potion used on Snape to get him out of the school and away from his influence.

"Umm, why? As far as he knows, I am an extremely powerful wizard. I am more powerful than him, and he has seen my power. Why can't I be the third person in England who could brew that potion? It's not as if he would test me!"

"Fourth person you mean?"

"I said _in England_. You have been in France all along, and you came by just last week because your god-daughter asked you to visit, for reasons of her own".

"Oh that's very neat!" She looked at Harry. "The only thing is you can't call me 'Aunt Penny' or get too familiar, if we met only today"

Harry was fine with that. "If that's the price to pay to have you around when my scar is being fixed, I'll take it", he said.

"So... do the kids know each other?" asked Hobby.

"Yes. We contacted Sirius when my experiments were looking to be almost done, and the kids have been getting together off and on ever since", said Pandora.

"How should _we_ interact with him?"

"Here's my plan", said Hobby...

* * *

 **1990-02-25 16:15 UTC, Hogwarts, headmaster's office**

Dumbledore jerked his head in alarm at the sudden intrusion. Truly, he had _never_ known of a wizard who could apparate into his _sanctum sanctorum_ , his highly warded office inside a just as highly warded castle. Nor could he _explain_ how this annoying wizard was doing it, so he was not much more than a spectator.

"We need you to come with me right away. There is something you need to see and understand", he said to the stunned old man.

"Where?"

"The Lovegood residence".

"What? What do the Lovegoods have to do with anything?"

"It's about young Potter's scar".

Dumbledore snapped upright in a jerk. "What about Harry's scar? And how do the Lovegoods know him?"

"That's _Mr. Potter_ to you, Dumbledore. I'm well aware of your special brand of false familiarity. You presume too much!"

"And you're side-stepping the question", said Dumbledore. Which Hobby was, indeed!

"True, but I won't lose any sleep over it. You can ask all your questions once we get there. And you do know I could simply take you there without informing you at all, don't you? Now stop wasting my time and come along". He held out his arm for the headmaster to grab, and popped away.

* * *

 **1990-02-25 16:20 UTC, The Lovegood Home**

The Phantom and Dumbledore entered the lab from the side door, having apparated to the open space in the front and walked around.

Dumbledore looked around the lab - it was quite crowded. The three Lovegoods of course, and he had expected Sirius and Remus to be present because Harry was. But he did not recognise the bushy-haired young girl standing very close to Harry, hugging him from the side (and he her). And were those two... _muggles?_... behind Remus?

"What is going on here? What are you doing with Harry's scar? You are playing a dangerous game, my dear Pand-"

"She is not your dear anything. You will address her as Mrs Lovegood", said a familiar voice from behind him. Familiar, but so sharp, so cold, he stumbled in turning around to face the clearly angry woman.

"Penny!", he exclaimed. "And Nick! It is so nice to see you both again, although I did not know you were in England".

"We were not. But when Pandora found her theories confirmed and saw that it was time to remove the horcrux from Harry's scar" - here Dumbledore paled - "she called us over, just in case we could be of any help. We've been in England for at least a few days now", said Penny.

Nick did not let him respond. "Are you going to tell us we, too, are playing a very dangerous game, my dear Albus?" (No one missed the subtle emphasis on the last three words, nor that they were clearly meant as sarcasm).

Dumbledore sighed. "I sense far too much anger from you, my old friends. What have I done to offend you? We haven't even spoken for decades!"

"What we have read of how you have carried the weight of your years and power, over the last few years, is sufficient. You are not the Albus I trained, the Albus we be-friended. You have grown far more arrogant than I would have imagined", said Nick.

Like a one-two punch, Penny spoke without letting Dumbledore get a word in. "Is it true that you have been legilimencing minors, even pre-teen children?"

With the Phantom standing right behind him, he could not even deny it. He hung his head for a moment, sighed, and looked at the ancient couple with a much-put-upon expression.

"Some of the things I have to do, I do not like, but they are often-"

Penny again interrupted him. ( _She seems to be particularly angry with me_ , thought Dumbledore. _I need to figure out why_ ) "I hope you're not going to say 'the greater good', because if you do, I will personally throw you into Nurmengard so you can bunk with your old friend", she said, her voice dripping disgust and anger.

"Clearly, there is more at play here than what you have said. What you have read in the newspapers about me, even if embellished by Sirius and Remus and this" - he pointed dismissively in Hobby's direction - "Phantom, could not be so bad."

"Listen you sanctimonious son-of-a-", started Sirius, only to be interrupted. "Sirius!", screamed Hermione, at the same time as her mother said "Language, Sirius!".

Smoothly, Sirius continued. "Let me remind you what I said in court one day: you left a child to be abused by his magic-hating relatives, denied him his rights, sealed his parents' wills, and left his godfather to rot in prison. Do not think that the House of Black or the House of Potter will ever forget - as far as we are concerned you got away far too lightly. You should be in the cell I was in, for at least the same amount of time. Just for a start".

Pandora stepped in too. "The Lovegoods are with Harry and Sirius on this. Let's be clear about this: you were invited, or rather forced to come here, because we want there to be absolutely no doubt in your mind that a certain problem you have recognised, but refused to do anything about, is now solved."

They were all laying into him. Penny picked up the rant. "We are doing this not only to protect Harry from any future shenanigans from you, especially once he starts school, but - in a way, considering what you used to mean to us decades ago - to protect you from the inevitable reaction of Sirius, Remus, and the Phantom".

Nick now. "Make no mistake, Albus. What we have seen of these three adults over the last week or so, makes us truly afraid for your very life, if you attempted anything against young Harry. That is when we decided that you needed to be here for this."

Dumbledore deflated. They were not even allowing him to speak - Pandora had already started leading Harry to a special chair he had not paid any attention to, till now.

He made one last ditch attempt. "By doing this, we risk warning him that his horcruxes are in danger, and he will come back sooner. You can not do this!"

"Oh you'd be surprised what I can do if I set my mind to it", grinned Hobby, turning away from the old man and focusing his attention on the chair where Pandora was working on Harry.

The procedure took less than ten minutes. Only Penny, and perhaps Nick, understood what precisely Pandora was doing. Dumbledore had had too many shocks today, not least that Pandora even knew how to remove a soul piece from a living container. At one point, he looked at Penny, and Penny, reading the question in his face, mouthed "unspeakable" to him.

 _Aah, that explained a lot_ , he thought.

The Phantom had seen this, so he tapped Dumbledore on the arm. "Lily was one too", he said blandly.

Dumbledore had to look for a chair and sit down.

* * *

Once the ritual was over, Penny and Nick carefully supervised while Dumbledore examined Harry and convinced himself that there was no more of the dark residue within his scar. Nodding to himself, he then looked up at his audience and said "yes; it is gone. Completely".

"And yet, left to your devices, Harry would have lived with this for pretty much the rest of his life. And you weren't expecting it to be a long life, were you?", asked the Phantom with a shrewd glance at him.

Dumbledore swallowed, and made no reply. The "greater good" would not work - that way lay Nurmengard; a threat he did not take lightly, coming as it did from such a powerful witch. One that seemed to bear him extraordinary, and inexplicable, ill-will right now.

The Phantom continued. "Let us lay things out for you once again. I do recall saying something like this to you once, when we caught you legilimencing children, but the situation is different now - Harry's scar is gone, or will be, soon. My warning to you is this: do not speak to Harry, do not approach Harry, do not interfere with Harry, do not attempt to influence his choices in school, like forcing him into divination classes, and most of all do not play games with his, or the other children's safety. The consequences will not be pleasant, and they will almost certainly require an extended stay in St Mungos for you".

"And that goes for Hermione, Luna, and Neville too".

This reminded Dumbledore of something he had meant to ask. "I suppose this young lady is Hermione. Might I know your last name, my dear?", he smiled at her.

Truly, this man had no shame, or at least could suppress it completely at will. He'd have made an excellent huckster.

"Like Mrs Flamel said about Aunt Pandora, I am not your 'dear'? My last name is Granger, and I prefer to be as formal with you as possible, so that's Ms Granger to you, headmaster".

"And you are a muggle-born?" She had to be. Most magical raised children had more respect for him than this. (Or so he liked to think; one could never be really sure, after the trials and other revelations a few years ago).

"Yes".

Dumbledore turned to Nick and Penny. "Was it wise to bring muggles to witness this procedure? What if there had been a reaction or a backlash? Was that not too much of a risk, over and above the risk of warning Voldemort his horcruxes were in danger?"

The two muggles in question had all this time been leaning against the wall. The lady casually moved away from the wall and approached him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore. Just a word of warning from a 'muggle'. It's not just the adults in Harry's life you need to be careful about. Harry has made several good friends in these years, and two of his best friends are right here. One is a seer who can see through you as if you were a pane of glass - she probably knows what devilry you're planning before you think of it. The other, my daughter, has been fiercely protective of her first friend ever since she met him, and she is vindictive as hell. Cross either of these two witches at your peril. It would be an unequal fight, unless you started a magical duel or something".

It went without saying that Dumbledore's reputation, what little was left of it anyway, would be totally shattered if he went that far with students under his care.

"As for the risk of warning Voldemort by destroying his horcruxes", the Phantom cut in. "We've been over this last year, in April. I do not think you are right; in fact I know you are wrong. We have already destroyed at least one, and he hasn't come back. And that was way back when Sirius was released from Azkaban".

"No thanks to you on the release, by the way", snarked Sirius.

But Dumbledore did not hear him. His eyes were round and big, and it looked like he would have a fit of some kind. "You did **WHAT**? You cannot do that, you don't know enough about all these things, you haven't seen-"

Nick wanted to jump in, but they had sort of painted themselves into a corner in terms of _when_ exactly they had met Harry and Sirius and the rest of the gang. So they just watched silently.

"Actually, it is _you_ who is creating a risk, by not making _any_ attempts to even collect them! Do you even know how many he made?"

"Yes I do. But my source is not available to you, so I doubt you would know", smirked Dumbledore.

Hobby thought fast. In his world, Dumbledore had no idea until Harry had wheedled it out of Slughorn. Nothing he had done should have changed that, unless...

"How long have you known?" he asked Dumbledore.

"A few months". Dumbledore did not see any harm in letting that information out.

 _So, around the time we started poking around the Gaunt shack_ , thought Hobby. It made sense.

He debated whether to shock the old man once again, then decided to go for it.

"What did Slughorn get out of you in return for the information?", he smirked.

* * *

AN: sorry folks; it's a little shorter than my norm. Some personal problems have left me with far too little time.


	47. Chapter 47: September 1991, at last!

Chapter 47: September 1991, at last!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1990-02-25 17:00 UTC, The Lovegood Home**

Dumbledore stared at The Phantom in shock.

"Hu- How- How did you-", he sputtered.

"My dear Albus", grinned The Phantom, "you never tell people anything, why would you expect people to tell _you_?"

He turned serious. "Let me remind you that your silence would have eventually resulted in the untimely death of this innocent child, after your inactions had already forced him to lead a life without love, kindness, or indeed anything a normal child experiences".

Dumbledore looked at the others in the room. Not a shred of sympathy did he see on anyone's faces; even the children had an incongruously hard set to their little faces.

Nick spoke. "Having seen and heard what's been going on, Penny and I have decided to return to the UK, at least for the foreseeable future", he said. "We have also gotten quite fond of Harry and Hermione, and we intend to make sure they're well prepared - both for Hogwarts, and for you".

Dumbledore was slowly going from shame to anger; it seems they were reaching a flash point with him. The others, recognising the subtle change in his expressions, let Nick and Penny deal with him.

Penny gave him a challenging look, meant to push him over the edge, and Dumbledore obliged.

Drawing himself up to his full height, since Nick and Penny were both shorter than him, he said, "I do not think what I have done warrants so much hostility from old friends, even if those much younger are unable to understand why I did what I did".

"Do not think we understand what you did either, Albus", said Penny. "Or rather, we understand alright - you've become egotistical. You're a legend in your own time, but now you're in danger of becoming a legend in your own mind".

Hermione and her father grinned at each other, smiling at the obscure reference. That was, of course, a totally different Harry. She wondered idly if the Flamels were as avid movie watchers as her dad was, or it was just a coincidence.

Dumbledore bridled at the insult, his anger rising yet again. He flared his magic in an attempt to intimidate the group arrayed against him. For all their age and magical knowledge, Nick and Penny were not truly fighters.

If he had expected them to react in any way, he was disappointed. Neither Nick nor Penny changed either their stance or their expression. The muggles had not moved, and the children had not moved. Sirius, Remus, and Pandora had drawn their wands and raised them, though a look from Nick had them lower them again, pointing down but still held ready.

He heard laughter from behind him. _I should have guessed_ , he growled to himself. The Phantom was not making any bones about his contempt for that little show of strength.

"In the words of the immortal Gregory Peck, Dumbledore, _if you have to tell them who you are, you ain't_ ", he said blandly. "I never flare my magic. I'd much rather put people in body binds and leave them in their own offices", he grinned.

Dumbledore paled. Fawkes had a burning day this morning, and would not be of any help for at least a day or two.

"If you are all done insulting me, and have nothing further to say, I would like to leave", he said in a disappointed tone.

"We are serious, Albus", said Pandora. "When these kids get to Hogwarts, you _will_ leave them alone, or there will be hell to pay. Forget about all the boy-who-lived nonsense, forget about the prophecy - yes we know about it, and forget about using children to do your dirty work for you."

The Phantom took it up. "As you may have noticed, Voldemort's support base has pretty much disappeared. There are a few stragglers, but they are of no account."

"Did you kill all of them? Don't you think that was a little extreme? They dese-"

"I'll tell you what", interrupted Hobby. "You agree to stay in Azkaban, in Sirius's old cell in the maximum security wing, for the same amount of time he endured there, and we can discuss anything you want after you come out. Or you can split it between your pet death-eater and yourself - half the time each, in adjacent cells. Until then, do not expect us to justify anything we do".

"Why do you keep bringing up that point?"

"Because you have not explained yourself to our satisfaction, and you probably never will because you really _have_ no reasonable explanation".

Dumbledore sighed. Deciding there was not much to be done here, he nodded at Nick and Penny, cold-shouldered everyone else, and walked to the door.

Hobby intercepted him. "One more thing. Don't bother telling Ollivander to inform you when Harry gets his wand. The one with Fawkes' feather in it will not choose him, when it comes time for Harry to get one"

A few seconds later, they heard the pop of him apparating away. The sound was unusually loud for someone of his power.

* * *

 **The next year and a half or so...**

A year and a half had passed, in relative peace and calm. No Voldemort, no minions, no drama in the ministry, and no tricks from Dumbledore. At least as far as anyone could tell, anyway.

Things could almost be said to be boring. Early in their friendship, Hermione and her parents had asked Sirius what exactly he did for a living, or - if he didn't need to earn one - what he did to while away the hours. They'd been surprised to find that a lot of affluent wizards actually spent time playing politics, because, while a few really meritorious people could make it, by and large the whole society ran on connections.

This had led to lots of discussions about wizarding life versus muggle life. Initially, both the Grangers had been very upset to hear this, but eventually they realised that British nobility, around the turn of the century (before the first war), was probably not very different. At least for someone whose knowledge of it was almost exclusively from reading about Bertie Wooster and Gussie Fink-Nottle and such others!

Still, you could not take this parallel too far - wizarding society did not have a "House of Commons" to balance the Lords.

Another topic that came up was when Harry discovered Sherlock Holmes - both the books, and the currently running BBC series with Jeremy Brett. He made Sirius buy him a deer-stalker, and wore it for several weeks. Luckily he did not walk around with a magnifying glass to his eye, examining the floor or the ground as he walked. (Well, except that one time when Hermione said he could not carry off a Jeremy Brett impression. It was easily one of the funniest impressions ever done, more so because he did not intend it to be funny!)

Naturally, then, both kids "interned" at Lupin Investigations, mostly as a joke. Some of the staff had gotten to know Harry at least fairly well, and they would let them sit in on some of their internal discussions - at least on the simpler, less controversial/confidential, cases. To the surprise of everyone except Harry and Hobby, there were a few occasions where Hermione even contributed meaningfully - in the sense that she thought of something that the professionals had missed.

Hobby, meanwhile, had become informally apprenticed to Nick and Penny, and was - somewhat at a leisurely pace - learning the basics of alchemy. He'd never had the chance to _like_ potions, though he knew he would have been at least decent at it, given a fair chance. He was really glad Snape was permanently out of Hogwarts; Harry would not be hobbled by a greasy bat hovering over him, making his life miserable with snide comments.

When he told Harry this once, Harry gave him a puzzled look. "Hobby, even if Snape were to be at Hogwarts, he can't treat me the same as he treated you. Or at least, he won't succeed. You had no one to bat for you, while I have so many, and it's all thanks to you. So... it's not that you got rid of Snape that is important here, it's that you gave me the support system you never had!" Saying which, Harry, and Hermione, who was listening to him with a beaming smile, gave Hobby a big hug.

Hobby was overwhelmed. Many a time he had found himself wondering if he had done the right thing by choosing to come back as someone else, and this went a long way to help him deal with that kind of self-doubt.

There was another person who made him feel even better about having come back as Hobby: Emily. The muggleborn girl Hobby had rescued from Malfoy's dungeons, was now in her _sixth year at Hogwarts_ , and was a prefect to boot! If he had come back as Harry, he would not have been able to save Emily and all the other people in those dungeons.

Hobby had kept in touch with Emily at regular intervals, and she had even been invited to visit Harry and Hermione in the muggle world once or twice. They looked on her like an older sister. She was a strong, sensible, young woman, and Hobby almost felt like she was his niece or something - he was that proud of her.

On a related but less positive note, Sirius had informed Hobby, Harry, and Hermione that Draco Malfoy would be at Hogwarts. Narcissa was released just short of a month from the start of school. Despite all his anger, Sirius had quietly taken care of Draco, making sure the orphanage was treating him decently, (though not extravagantly), that he was not being bullied, etc., He had also made sure he got his Hogwarts letter, and had someone take him to get his supplies, and so on.

* * *

 **1991-09-01 11:00 UTC, Kings Cross**

The three kids (Neville had joined Harry and Hermione) were in a compartment toward the end of the train. Emily was going to sit with them for a while, and later she would go off to find her classmates elsewhere in the train.

Sirius, Remus, the Grangers, and Augusta said their goodbyes to the kids, and started walking back out of the station, chatting amicably. Luna was not starting this year, so Pandora - who had become closer and closer to this group - was not there. Hobby had been there, in his Phantom persona, but he had disappeared after some time. Sirius thought he knew where the elf-man had gone, but did not say anything.

Hobby was on the train, but Harry and Hermione were not to know that he was They had strenuously objected to having Hobby around. They told him he'd already fixed all the problems anyway, and even if Quirrel had Voldemort on the back of his head, it would not hurt Harry because the horcrux inside Harry was gone. They also said he needed to concentrate on his alchemy.

Hobby was not to be dissuaded. He simply did the Slytherin thing of appearing to agree, but secretly told Nick and Penny he was taking some time off from alchemy, in order to shadow Harry for a couple of weeks at least. Just to make sure the old man did not try anything, despite all the warnings he had received.

Besides, Harry may not be affected by Quirrel's "passenger", but the passenger would still be after Harry. Who knew what he would try!

Hobby quietly put a charm outside so that neither Ron Weasley, nor Draco Malfoy, would notice the compartment, though anyone else would. He then slipped in and sat down - invisible - in a corner, weaving a very subtle diversion around himself so that, should some other kid join them, they would not attempt to sit _on_ him.

After some time they heard voices outside the compartment.

"What the hell do you mean Potter is in that compartment, you idiot? There's no compartment there; it's just empty space", said a nasal voice in what _would have been_ a drawl, in another world and another time.

Hobby smacked his forehead. He'd forgotten about Draco's sidekicks when he was doing the charm.

Hermione looked at the corner suspiciously, but did not say anything. Harry was too busy trying to listen to what was happening outside to pay attention to sounds _inside_ the compartment.

Evidently, father being executed, and mother in Azkaban for three years, does not suffice to bring down the Malfoy spirit. Hobby wondered how this worked. He knew that Azkaban was somewhat of a badge of honor for the crazy witch Bellatrix, but had thought the Malfoys prized their image more than anything else.

He was not surprised that Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe were here - after all he was the one who had decided those boys' fathers were just muscle, and left them alone.

What _did_ surprise him was finding out that Draco Malfoy appeared to have the same sway over them that the one in his world did. He made a mental note to have Sirius check Narcissa's financial situation; maybe he was being too generous.

Meanwhile, the door was pushed open, and the three boys stepped in. Hobby watched silently. Either Harry or Hermione could take care of all of them with the training they had been getting so he was not worried.

"Potter", said Malfoy.

"I'm sorry do I know you?" asked Harry. He knew who he was of course, but only because Hobby had told him, which was off the record so it didn't count.

"I am Draco Malfoy", said the blond. Hobby noticed that his clothes were not of as fine a cut as he remembered from his days in the other timeline. If Sirius had taken fine clothes into account in his allowance, clearly that money was being diverted.

Harry did not get up, and did not offer his hand. "I'm Harry Potter, but then you already knew that".

Draco looked at Neville and nodded politely when Neville introduced himself. He then looked with the beginnings of a sneer at Hermione.

(Hobby suddenly remembered that Snape was only under house arrest. He could not leave, but others could visit him. He had assumed that Draco had not been taken to visit him while he was in the orphanage, but was that really true? And if it was, then... _Wow, I didn't realise you could teach someone how to sneer that fast_ , he smiled to himself.)

"The name's Granger. Hermione Granger", said Hermione.

If she intended to insult Malfoy, she did it masterfully. Not that Malfoy knew anything about James Bond, but Harry did, and to some extent Neville also (by associating with them). They both fell about laughing at Hermione's words and tone, and _that_ was insulting to Malfoy.

Goyle and Crabbe were the surprise though, and Hobby could not believe his ears and eyes.

"Mr Potter", said Gregory Goyle, smiling and with his hand out. "My father tells me he owes your godfather and your patron for showing him the error of his ways. He wanted me to tell you he has completely changed his opinions on muggleborns" - _not mudbloods?_ , though Hobby - "and half-bloods because of his experiences at, well, he thinks it may have been Black Manor but he's not sure. He also wanted me to tell you he would never ever even think of kidnapping a child".

Crabbe came forward too. For some reason, he was less articulate. ( _Was this true in my timeline?_ , wondered Hobby). "What he said. My father and his father both told us to tell you this".

It was unclear who was more shocked at all this - Malfoy, or Hobby (still invisible). Both were staring goggle-eyed at Goyle and Crabbe, with of course diametrically opposite feelings behind the shock.

Meanwhile, Harry stood up and politely shook both their hands, saying "nice to meet you, and nice to hear what you said. I'll be sure to pass this along to Sirius, and... oh what did you mean 'patron'?"

"That wizard who calls himself The Phantom", said Goyle. "He seemed to have taken you under his protection, as if you needed more than Black".

"Oh he's kind of like an uncle to me and Hermione now", said Harry, making sure to include - despite their assurances - that Hermione was also under The Phantom's protection. He heard Hermione muttering "Hermione and me, not me and Hermione" under her breath, and gave her a sidelong glance and a grin.

Goyle and Crabbe nodded politely, turned around, and left the compartment, leaving Draco hanging.

Clearly, whatever time he had spent with Snape, and one month with Narcissa, were not sufficient to prepare him to handle unplanned situations. If the rest of Slytherin had been the _old_ one, he would have been eaten alive the first week.

He turned around and walked off in a huff. He didn't even know how to deal with his recalcitrant minions. Quite possibly, his former minions, now.

* * *

 **1991-09-01 18:00 UTC, the Great Hall, Hogwarts**

As Hobby watched the age-old ceremony, his mind went back to his first year. He could remember almost everyone who had any role to play - good or bad - but he was surprised to see so many names and faces that he could not remember. Some, like Sally Ann Perks, he vaguely remembered, but it was as if she was only there in his first year and somehow disappeared - unremarked by anyone, even among the staff - subsequently.

But there were at least a dozen others whom he just could not remember, try as he might. He wasn't sure if he could extract that memory in a pensieve - how solid were memories carried across death _and_ a species change? He'd have to look into it next time he visited Nick and Penny. If it indeed turned out that they did not exist in his memories, these must be all the children that he had inadvertently saved from the dungeons over the years! They did, all, appear to be muggleborns, so the chances were high that that was indeed the case.

Neville went to Gryffindor, as before. As did Ron Weasley. Curiously, Hobby did not detect any attempts from him to even approach Harry - even at the station, there was no sign that Molly Weasley was looking for the boy-who-lived. Presumably, the showdown between her and the Granger girls at Harry's birthday party had turned her off. He was mildly sad, but not overly so. Harry had enough support now, as he himself had reminded Hobby, and did not need the Weasleys.

Hermione and Harry both went to Gryffindor too. He had not told them what house they were in in his time (at least not explicitly), not wanting to influence them in any way, but he was glad to see it anyway. The other possibility was, of course, Ravenclaw, but he wasn't sure if a Ravenclaw Hermione would manage to set fire to Snape's robes if it became necessary! (Of course he would make sure Quirrel did not try anything like that, so this was more a hypothetical situation).

He had, he remembered, once rationalised the contrast between Hermione's reputation among his classmates as a rule follower, and the occasions when she broke rules or opposed authority. He had realised that she followed rules and obeyed authority, as long as she believed it did not affect Harry, or if it did, it was in his interest, not against. A rule that appeared designed to keep him safe, she would follow religiously. But if there was risk to Harry's life or limb...

He was jolted out of his introspection by the headmaster's voice. He was saying something that Harry was absolutely sure he should not, would not, could not, say this time.

"...and the third floor corridor on the west side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a violent death".


	48. Chapter 48: Into each life, some rain

Chapter 48: Into each life, some rain must fall!

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** AN: I'm not sure if I should call some of this "adult language" or "juvenile language", though, within the story line, it is not actually meant to be either. You'll see... :)

 **1991-09-01 18:30 UTC, the Great Hall, Hogwarts**

Harry and Hermione, who had already heard the entire story from Hobby, turned to each other in shock. The consensus among the adults had been that he would not try this in this timeline, and if he so much as hinted to the Flamels that he wanted to borrow their stone, both Harry and Hermione would be pulled out of Hogwarts immediately. Sirius had no qualms about putting them into Beauxbatons. Learning a second language was supposed to be good for the brain anyway so that would be an opportunity, not a problem.

"What's happening, do you think?" asked Harry.

Hermione shrugged. "We don't know enough to guess. Hobby will figure it out and come and tell us anyway, so until then we just sit tight, I guess".

"True. Still, I wonder what he placed there?"

However, they were unable to keep up their quiet discussion, since the people next to them, on either side, also seemed to want their attention.

"Are you really the Boy-Who-Lived?" said a male voice with a distinctly Irish accent from the other side of Harry. Harry turned to answer the question.

"Yes, though I don't like the title at all", said Harry.

"Why not? You're famous!" said Ron, sitting across the table from Hermione. He had just nodded politely at them when he had come to the table after being sorted - after all he _had_ been their guest for one evening - but on the whole he seemed a lot more stand-offish than either Harry or Hermione would have predicted, given what Hobby told them of their relationship in his timeline.

Harry waited a few beats. Slowly, people realised something was going to happen and conversations died down around the table.

"Why don't I like the title of Boy-Who-Lived?" asked Harry, mostly for the benefit of those who had not heard Ron's question, and were only just now "tuning in", so to speak.

"Well, every time someone says _Boy-Who-Lived_ , I hear it as _Boy-Whose-Parents-Were-Murdered_. I assume you're not trying to remind me of that event."

Several gasps, of varying levels of shock, were heard around the table. Hermione wrapped her arm around Harry's upper arm in a show of support, but she was wondering where this was coming from - Harry had come to terms with the death of his parents long ago. She gave him a concerned look.

Harry bent low to her ear and whispered, "I need to nip this in the bud. Just ignore what I am saying; I'll explain later."

"I know a lot of you think I did something amazing, but - now that all the books lying about my life have been off the shelves for a few years - let me tell you I did nothing. Whatever it was, my mum and dad must have done it."

He caught and held the gaze of several people - each for a second or two - then looked back to Ron. "Let's not talk about this, if you don't mind. And just call me Harry - I have no other titles and don't need any right now."

* * *

 **1991-09-01 21:30 UTC, location unknown**

As Hobby heard Dumbledore give the dire warning to the students that he was never expecting to hear again, he decided this needed to be investigated.

He knew for a fact - indeed, they had discussed it only the previous night - that Nick and Penny had **not** given, and would never give, the old bastard their stone. The Flamels were in fact planning what to say and how to couch what they actually wished to say, if Dumbledore came by to ask. It didn't help that Hobby had no insights into how they had been convinced to give up the stone in his timeline - had Dumbledore tricked it out of them somehow?

In any case, possibly as a fallout of the confrontation at the Lovegoods' place, Dumbledore appeared to have decided not to contact them, so that was that.

So, once the kids had finished their dinners, been escorted to the Gryffindor common room, and had settled down for the night in their own dormitories, Hobby popped over to the Flamels.

"Guess what?"

Nick grimaced.

"Whatever it is, it's not the stone", he said. "I just checked it. Even tested it to make sure it's the original - although after so many years I could probably tell even without testing it".

"Well, either he put up a fake stone there, or he is using some other artifact that we have not thought of. What else could it be, Hobby?" asked Penny.

"Offhand, I can't think of anything. _If_ we had not already destroyed all the horcruxes, I would have considered one of them - assuming he could have found one - to be a possibility. A remote one, though. No, my money is on a fake stone. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Well he _was_ your student. Do you think he may have managed to create one for himself?"

Penny laughed. "What I know of him, he would never sacrifice his own things, so even if he did create one, I doubt he would use it. But honestly, I don't think he made one. He's aging normally, and it's not just a glamour. I am positive".

"Is Quirrellmort there?" asked Nick.

"Yes, both Quirrell and Mort", laughed Hobby. "I was very tempted to do something to him, but there's no telling how he'll react, and I don't want the students at risk. I'll confront him in a day or two, and meanwhile, I'll get the fake stone out".

* * *

 **1991-09-01 21:30 UTC, Hogwarts**

Voldemort was happy. Even gleeful. Which, on the whole, was a relief for Quirrell.

He thoroughly regretted his misguided attempt to find Voldemort now, of course, but he dare not think too much on that. The Dark Lord was, it seemed, quite capable of legilimencing him while possessing him, though it seemed to take some effort and he did not do it often.

The spirit had latched on to him in Albania sometime toward the end of his year off, and ever since then, his life had not been the same.

It got worse when they came back to Britain, and Voldemort found out that Quirrell had neglected to even _mention_ the sweeping changes that had happened in British wizarding society over the last few years. Even Malfoy's death had not been mentioned. (Voldemort would never realise that it was partly his fault - after all, when people get tortured for _answering_ questions when he did not like the answer, why would someone _volunteer_ information? Sure, they'd get punished harder when it finally came out, but, as someone said, _hope springs eternal in the human breast_ , and postponing punishment will almost always seem like a good idea!)

He'd been in a terrible rage since then, and Quirrell suffered the torture at the "hands", such as they were, of his guest-turned-dictator for a few weeks.

It was only the temptation of getting close to Potter and killing the boy in some manner that made Voldemort back off; after all, a drooling wreck of a man would not be able to maintain his post as Defence professor at Hogwarts.

And then, last week - after the mandatory staff meeting preparatory to a new academic year - Dumbledore had asked Quirrell and Hagrid to stay behind.

He had explained that he had been asked by his old friend and mentor, Nicholas Flamel, that their philosopher's stone was in danger, and he would like to protect it by keeping it behind Hogwarts "formidable" (yes, that is the word Dumbledore used, and he appeared to be completely sincere) wards.

He had explained that it would be hidden behind some traps which led from an old, unused, room on the third floor. He asked Hagrid to supply a Cerberus (Hagrid did not even blink at the request - apparently being asked to procure a hellhound was nothing remarkable, to him).

He then asked Quirrell to find and capture a mountain troll.

With some prompting from his "master", Quirrell had asked what other protections had been there, assuming that the four heads of house must have already been contacted.

Dumbledore had demurred. "I would not want to burden you two with those details", he had said grandiosely, and side-stepped the question.

So, the old man was being cagey about the other protections. Still, this was a bonus. He may be able to get his revenge on the Potter boy, and simultaneously find an invaluable artifact that would allow him to get a new body. Without having to use the bone of his muggle father - something he was very happy to avoid, and had been keeping as a last resort.

In this euphoric mood, he decided to check up on one of his horcruxes, only to find no sign of it, and his euphoria came crashing down, giving way to a massive bout of anger.

For the second time in almost as many months, he nearly got Quirrell killed, and the whole "kill Potter and get the stone" scheme nearly came to a screeching halt. It was only when Quirrell's pathetic whimpering stopped, and he thought he saw a hint of drool, that Voldemort came to his senses and stopped.

But now he needed to check his other horcruxes, and he could not do that until at least the following weekend - during the week it would be really hard to get away from the school. Besides, he _had_ gone a wee bit overboard in his punishment of Quirrell, for something that was - even without hindsight - not his fault in any way.

He decided to bide his time till the weekend. He also decided to advance the plan to create a diversion and get the stone. After all, if he got the stone, he wouldn't have to worry about the horcruxes anyway.

The contact of Quirrell's who had supplied the troll to satisfy Dumbledore's request, would probably have one more, but again, he could not contact him till the weekend.

Meanwhile, he had a leak to plug. Sure, some would say it was a little like closing the barn door after the horse had bolted, but _information_ was not like a horse. There's always value in shutting down the source, even if the leak has already happened.

* * *

 **1991-09-02 23:30 UTC, Hogwarts, 3rd floor, west wing**

Hobby popped straight into the room housing Fluffy, with a music box under his arm, already playing. Fluffy promptly fell asleep, but unfortunately was slap bang on top of the trapdoor.

Hobby considered what to do. He could probably try to magically lift the enormous hound, but it would take some doing. It would be best if the damn dog moved on its own.

He went and stood near the door, furthest away from the trapdoor, and shut off the music. As expected, the dog woke up. It smelt him, and lunged forward.

Hobby had seriously under-estimated how fast it would wake up and jump. He quickly turned on the music, but it was a very close call. The dog fell asleep with its slobbering snout barely two inches from where Hobby was standing, pressed up against the wall. Of course, he could have popped out, so he was not in _real_ danger, but still, it was a close call.

Steadying himself, Hobby walked to the trapdoor, opened it, and shone some light in.

He knew that Minerva and Filius would probably have refused to help Dumbledore, but he was not sure about Sprout. (Slughorn was another matter. Dumbledore would not risk even hinting to him that Voldemort might enter the castle, so he was sure there would be no potions challenge either.)

There was no Devil's Snare. _So much for that_ , thought Hobby. _I wonder if it's just Hagrid and Quirrell then._

He jumped down, levitating himself lightly at the last moment to land reasonably softly. Walking to the door, he peered inside.

There was a troll in the moderately large room. The room was huge, with a pretty high ceiling - Hobby remembered flying up to catch a key here. The room was not correspondingly wide and long though, so the troll could reach any part of the room with one swing of his massive club.

Specifically, running across the room would not work - one would have to be incredibly fast (or lucky) to escape a clubbing.

 _Or_ , thought Hobby, _one would have to be a house-elf, and just pop over to the door on the far side_ , grinning to himself.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the troll did not even realise what he had done. It had seen Hobby of course, but then he had just disappeared, and the troll just sat there, trying to work out where the too-small-to-make-a-decent-meal thing had gone.

Hobby moved on. He opened the door, and walked into a stunner at point blank range.

* * *

Dumbledore had felt the alarm go off in the room before the troll chamber - the room where he would have placed the Devil's Snare if Sprout had co-operated. Cursing Minerva once again, for he was sure she was the reason for Filius and Pomona refusing to help him, he "tuned in" to some of the sensory charms he had placed in the room.

He was not quite sure what to expect. He had detected Voldemort's taint on Quirrell as soon as Quirrell had entered the school a week before term started. He had, of course, expected it - with Harry Potter coming to school this year, the temptation was too much for Tom.

He decided to sweeten the pot somewhat by offering up a fake philosopher's stone. He fully intended to throw the boy into the deep end, as it were, and force him to confront Tom as soon as possible. Of course, if the boy had grown up as he had originally planned, he would have given him a whole year to get used to things, understand his place in the world, look at things like the Mirror of Erised to understand the futility of dreams, and so on.

In other words, prepare him, gradually, to meet Tom.

But now, that was impossible. Due to the accursed Phantom and Black, not to mention Lupin, the boy would have had God only knew how much special training - certainly far more than he would have had in his first year under _his_ plan.

(Dumbledore would have been surprised to be told that other than muggle martial arts, and a small amount of awareness and rudimentary self-defence, Harry had not been taught anything special! His guardians were absolute clear that fighting a war was _not_ the job of a child!)

Back to the present, Dumbledore looked closely at what his sensors were showing him. To his surprise, this was not a wizard - this was an elf!

He suddenly knew who it was. This was a golden opportunity to capture the troublesome elf that had broken his body bind in Little Hangleton, the one that belonged to the Phantom. _I was just thinking of you - or rather, cursing you, my friend_ , he smirked to himself, making his way down the special set of stairs which led directly to the room in which the Mirror of Erised had been placed.

He waited calmly right in front of the door, his wand aimed low enough to make sure the spell would not go over the elf's head.

The elf walked in, and he hit him, point blank, with a stunner.

* * *

 **1991-09-02 23:45 UTC, Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office**

Hobby found himself lying on the bare floor, in a corner of what appeared to be Dumbledore's private office, behind the one he used as the headmaster. He tried to pop out, but quickly found that it did not work. He appeared to have been trapped. Looking more carefully, he sensed he was in a virtual box of some kind, and four feet on each side.

"I admit that most families have forgotten how to fence in their elves, but back before we managed to subdue your kind to our will, old families used to cover the entire house in this kind of a ward to keep the elves in. Now, of course, no one even knows something like this ever existed. Too bad for you I read a lot, and I know a lot." Dumbledore's voice had just a hint of a sneer in it, the rest was quite the display of self-congratulation.

"Hmm, I'm sure you've read a lot. What do you have to do anyway? You're not married, you don't have a family, the one brother you have, hates you. At your age, you probably can't jerk off too, but even if you could, the thought that _you_ put your lover in prison - man that's gotta be a damper on any such ideas. Sucks to be you, if you'll pardon the pun".

Once again, this elf managed to throw his entire world view out of whack. He had never, ever, remotely _imagined_ an elf could even know such words, let alone speak them. He did not know what "jerk off" meant, but he could guess - he wasn't a headmaster of a school for nothing.

He quickly realised that the elf was trying to get him to lose his temper, for whatever reason only he knew. Calming himself down with a supreme effort, he managed to bring the conversation back to the important things.

"Where is your master?"

"No idea. _He_ is the master, not I."

"Does he know you were coming here?"

Hobby put on a shame-faced expression. "No. I heard him talking about it with someone, and decided to investigate."

"Can an elf _do_ that?"

"My master treats me like a member of his family. As much as a brother. I am bound to him magically but he does not enforce anything with it."

"Why?"

"He grew up muggle. He doesn't like slavery."

"So when will he miss you and start wondering where you are?"

"No idea. I often go away for days at a time. But within a day or two, he will start wondering. If you want him to come here earlier, you'd better inform Sirius - he knows how to get in touch with him." He paused and added, "or I could go and get him?"

Dumbledore gave him a look.

"Well it was worth a try. Say, what kind of ward is this? Will it prevent wizards from coming in?"

"No it won't; it only stops elves. Why? Are you expecting your master to come and rescue you? Don't worry, by tomorrow morning I'll have a few surprises for him. Surprises that will keep him occupied well before he gets this far into my office."

"Oh now I was not asking because of my master. I was only wondering if I have to worry about my pretty little self being violated in my sleep by the great Albus Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore lost control. He swept into the enclosed area, grabbed Hobby by the throat, and started squeezing...

..completely forgetting, in his anger, that the ward did not diminish the elf's powers. (How could it? A power-less elf was no good in the house - that ward was only created to keep them _in_ , not keep them _weak_ ).

Hobby slammed his hard, bony, forehead against Dumbledore's, putting all his might into it so as to knock him out cold. He then turned into the Phantom and walked out, dragging Dumbledore behind him.

He considered for a moment what to do with him. There were several choices, the best one being to finish him off permanently, by imprisoning him in Grimmauld's dungeons. But that wouldn't do any good in the long run. Dumbledore had had a few years respite after the last bout of reputation-shredding, and any "finishing off" needed to be in that direction. He needed to be _alive_ , and looked down upon by everyone.

He settled on a plan. It wasn't a particularly good plan for his long term goals, but it was good. Grinning gleefully, and making sure once again that he was properly stunned, he popped off with his prisoner.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.** AN: Less than one week since the last update so you'll forgive me if it's a bit shorter, but I just had to get this out.

 **1991-09-03 03:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Quirrell, under direction from his guest/master, crept silently along the corridor outside his room. Walking quickly but silently, he made his way down the stairs towards the dungeons. He did not quite know what his master intended, but it was clear he meant serious harm to the potions professor. Maybe even death. Clearly, not finding whatever he had looked for in that strange room on the seventh floor, was the cause.

Voldemort, for his part, had already decided what he would do. Killing Slughorn outright would not help - he needed to first find out who else knew about this, and _why_ Slughorn had told them. Once he had that information, he would torture the bastard to within an inch of his life, then kill him.

He was still debating whether to dispose of the body, hide it somewhere for someone to find much later, or to openly display it in the Great Hall, when they had reached Slughorn's quarters.

Unlocking the door ( _pathetic locking charms that a first year could undo_ , thought Voldemort) and walking in as quietly as he could force Quirrell to go, he peered in.

Slughorn appeared to be sleeping the sleep of the dead, but that was not what Voldemort noticed first.

He quickly left the room. He had, of course, heard about these things, but he had never imagined that at this age... he grimaced. No, he could not afford to take on both of them right now, in his "Quirrell" state. Time enough for all that after the stone was his, and that would have to wait till the weekend. There was a lot to do on the weekend - first the stone, then go check on his other horcruxes.

* * *

 **1991-09-03 08:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Breakfast that day was an unforgettable affair for the students. The fun had started long before breakfast, where some students from Slytherin and Hufflepuff, both housed in or close to the potions master's domain, had reported hearing loud shouting from Professor Slughorn.

Neither the exact cause of his ire nor his target were known, until a muggleborn Hufflepuff first year who had gone for a morning run around the lake reported coming back to his common room to see a dishevelled and extremely annoyed headmaster - **in sleepwear** \- coming out of Professor Slughorn's living quarters.

(Interestingly, he was not initially believed about the _sleepwear_ aspect, the logic being "what would a muggleborn know about wizarding wear - he may have mistaken a normal robe for a nightgown". It was a valid point, especially considering what Dumbledore normally wore.)

By the time 8am rolled around, and most of the kids were in the Great Hall, rumours of something major having happened last night had circulated through all four houses, and all seven years. Except for a few students, pretty much no one paid much attention to the sumptuous spread of breakfast items - sure they ate their breakfast, but their _attention_ was on the head table, and the hall had the atmosphere of a theater audience waiting for the curtain to rise.

The staff table, meanwhile, appeared to be unaware of anything untoward having happened. The Hogwarts rumour mill, so efficient when bridging the divide between houses, was not so good at jumping from student to teacher. That would, and often did, happen, but not before classes were done for the day, and certainly not before _breakfast_! (In actual fact, detentions - which, now that Snape was gone, were less frequent and more friendly all-round - were the best times for this. In later years, some professors would take to giving Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil detentions just to be able to catch up with news around the castle!)

So, anyway, Professor McGonagall and a few others were sitting at the table, eating breakfast in a leisurely manner. All three heads, being the most experienced of those, could easily see that something had happened to put that expectant look on the students' faces, but they had no clue what it could be. The rest of the professors did not seem to have caught anything of this. In fact, one or two of them, especially Professor Quirrell, even appeared to be half-asleep.

(Despite Professor Sprout being head of Hufflepuff, her quarters were not near the Hufflepuff dorms. In fact none of the heads had quarters near the house they headed - only Slytherin, and that only because the _potions lab_ happened to be in the dungeons).

When the curtain, figuratively speaking, rose, however, it was not so much "Act 1, Scene 1", as it was "Exeunt all stage left". At least as far as the students were concerned.

Minerva had never liked Slughorn. She knew all about his "people collecting" ways, and despised him for using them on _students_. The fact that he favoured students based on their current or potential future _popularity_ , grated on her even more.

Slughorn, in turn, regarded her as an upstart child (she was nearly forty years younger than him) who should not have been given the role of deputy headmaster so early in life. He had always felt that role should have been his, and never made it a secret that he thought so.

Still, the rules said that the deputy was the person he should be dealing with at this time, so that is what he did. He walked up to Professor McGonagall, and slapped a folded piece of parchment next to her breakfast plate.

Having been caught mid-bite, McGonagall nodded at him, chewed, swallowed, then asked him what was the matter. Since she was quite unaware of what had happened or who might be involved, this is what she said.

"What is it Horace? Someone hurt your ego?"

While she had said it in a quiet enough voice that the students could not hear her, Slughorn had either not even thought about the students, or was past caring.

"I refuse to work in an atmosphere of sexual intimidation and harassment. I quit!", he shouted.

As soon as Slughorn had started speaking, Flitwick pulled his wand and raised a privacy spell to prevent the students form hearing anything, prompting a loud groan from a large number of students.

(But the damage had been done. Flitwick was slightly delayed by having to set down his knife and fork first, so that, by the time the spell took hold, the word "sexual" had been heard. The only reason it did not fuel intense speculation as to "who" was because it lent credence to the first year Hufflepuff who had described Dumbledore's attire as "sleepwear").

Both he and Minerva looked to Slughorn for some clarification. "What the hell do you mean?" said Minerva.

"Ask Dumbledore. I don't care to discuss it, since I can't explain it. All I will say is that I've got nothing against his proclivities, but I want no part of it myself."

"I see", said Minerva. Turning to Flitwick, she said, "Filius, it would seem the dementia that we thought he was suffering from has finally hit!"

Turning back to Slughorn, she said "Your contract does not allow you to leave at such short notice, Professor Slughorn". (She would have been glad to see him go, but twisting the knife was a better reward. Besides, if he simply left, how would they get the story out of him?)

"My contract only says I have to teach. It does not require me to be head of house. Put someone else on as head of Slytherin, and that will free me from the obligation to stay within the castle after classes. I will arrive _after breakfast_ , and leave at 4pm, except on days when we have a staff meeting."

"That will be acceptable. Are you letting your resignation stand, then? That will give me one month to find a replacement for you. Or are you - with this arrangement - going to continue the year? I would be quite happy either way, but I need to know now if it is the former".

Slughorn thought for a moment. "I will stay the year."

This was probably the first time in Hogwarts history that such decisions were made in the Great Hall, instead of in either Professor McGonagall's office or the headmaster's office.

Anyway, everyone was happy, so all's well that ends well.

* * *

Well, not quite everyone. Voldemort was spitting nails. He had lost his opportunity to deal with Slughorn quietly, because doing anything between 8am and 4pm was very unlikely.

He would have to follow him to his home one weekend, but he had heard that Slughorn was intensely private, and no one except Dumbledore even knew _where_ he lived. Not even the general area - it could be anywhere in Britain.

So, failing that, he would have to reveal himself in front of whatever students happened to be around him at the time he decided to do it.

On second thought, once he had the stone, did it really matter if he had to reveal himself?

* * *

 **1991-09-03 09:00 UTC, location unknown**

"So what exactly did you do with him?" asked Penny.

"I'll tell you in a minute. First, I was wondering about something. You see, the night before last, at the school's opening feast, was the first that we heard about the third floor. But Professor McGonagall must have known at least a week or so earlier. So why didn't she mention this to anyone? I know she's good friends with Madam Marchbanks, and pretty close to the Minister and the Chief Witch. One of them in turn would have told us."

"Aah but you're forgetting one thing my good lad", said Nick. "Minerva does not know your story. As far as she knew, this would have been some hare-brained scheme of Dumbledore's, because he definitely would not have shared any _details_ with her. Certainly he would not have even mentioned the stone."

Penny nodded. "In fact, it's quite possible he didn't even ask her. Or Professor Flitwick or Professor Sprout. Now quit stalling and tell us what you did!"

"Well, if the term had not started and the kids had not been in school, I would have put him in bed with Quirrellmort. You know - just give him the distinction of having slept with _both_ the dark lords in his lifetime?", he chuckled.

Nick and Penny laughed out loud at the imagery. It's not that they had anything against their old student's leanings; it was more the specific individual he had been interested in that was the cause of their prejudice. And then his taking Snape under his wing, so to speak - that raised a whole bunch of other questions.

"Yeah that would not have been safe - who know how Voldemort would react! But it would have been fun! Makes me wish you had known about the third floor earlier!"

"Yes. So I picked the next best thing to a dark lord in the castle", said Hobby, as he started explaining. "I put him in the bed of someone who was responsible for telling Voldemort about horcruxes. I also replaced the stunner with a normal sleeping charm, to make sure Slughorn would wake up before Dumbledore did."

Nick and Penny laughed again, but quickly turned serious.

"So did you actually see what was hidden in the room behind the troll?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. After I had dealt with Dumbledore, I went back there and checked. It _was_ a stone, but I think it's fake". Saying this, he pulled a small, red, stone out of his pocket and handed it to Nick.

Nick turned it over in his hand, held it up to the light, and then waved his wand over it a few times. Then he snagged a glass from the sideboard, held the stone over it, and tapped it three times with his wand while muttering an incantation.

A pale gray liquid flowed out of the stone until the glass was half-full.

"Hmm, that liquid should be pink. Gray does not bode well", he said.

He then raised it to his nose to smell it. Evidently satisfied, he summoned a dry leaf from the garden - autumn was on its way - and dropped it in the glass.

Nothing happened to the leaf, though you could detect a faint greening around the edge. He left it in the glass, and watched it for a while.

After about ten minutes, the green had spread only a little more inward from the edge. He nodded to himself, throwing away the liquid and the leaf.

"It's very close to one of our very early efforts than a fake, which is bad news. It means Dumbledore picked up enough from us to get this far, which - frankly - I find somewhat disturbing, now that I know more about him than I did then."

"But it seems to be missing some critical components", said Penny.

"What would be the effect of this stone? How soon would Voldemort figure out it was fake, if he managed to steal it?"

"Almost immediately. This stone is not powerful enough to give him a body. It couldn't even green _one_ leaf after ten minutes."

"Plus, don't forget", said Penny, "the components that are missing cause this to have unexpected side effects".

"What side effects?"

"Well, we did not experiment on anyone, mind you, but from our arithmantic calculations, they do a lot of weird things. First, they would make him lose his grip on reality, while making him think it is everyone _else_ that is losing it. He would essentially become a megalomaniac, thinking only he knew best, and so on".

"Hmm, that sounds pretty bad", said Hobby. "Do you think Dumbledore himself was drinking this? It sounds very like him!"

"No, I am pretty sure he is not. I may have mentioned that I could tell from his aging that it was natural. Besides, this stone has more problems. If the drinker was even mildly parochial to begin with, this would make him outright racist! I would hate for a pureblood sympathiser to drink this; he'd become like Malfoy in a few doses!"

"Unfortunately", she continued, "it will also give him incredible luck. The Felix Felicis part of our stone is definitely a fundamental part of it, and I can see it's there. That would make him - at least while the effect lasts - win against overwhelming odds. Of course Felix does not last - it's effects reduce exponentially with each use, so who knows how and when the end will come?"

"Hmm, all that sounds like Hitler. Do you think Grindelwald gave Hitler something like this?"

"You know, it's quite possible", said Nick, rubbing his chin. "I think we need to be watchful that the next Hitler does not rise using this stone, in case Dumbledore loses control of it. And I have just the thing in mind. Wait here". Saying this, Nick left the room, presumably to go down to his lab.

He returned a few minutes later with two syringes with some clear liquid in them.

"Let me make a small change to this stone - I just need to inject these liquids deep into the stone, and then you can put it back".

"What will your injection do?"

"Hitler did not work alone. He had a team, and - to some extent - they were loyal to each other. The first potion makes him lose all sense of loyalty, making him turn on his people at the drop of a hat - praise them one minute and curse them the next. He won't be able to retain anyone for the long haul."

Hobby nodded.

"Hitler was also a great orator. Combined with the megalomania and racism, the world may not survive a second Hitler. The second one will handicap him by forcing him to speak only in short, disjointed, ungrammatical, phrases. It will also give him the attention span of a toddler - he won't be able to read more than half-a-page of text without getting bored."

"Combined, they will make sure that the... well let's just say 'victim' for now, will not go unnoticed for long, and we can be on our guard", said Nick.

Hobby thought for a second. "You know, those signs are too subtle. I mean, the second one is less so, but still, we may miss them in the early stages. After all, the world is full of unscrupulous people attempting to claw themselves into a position of power. Could you add something more tangible, so that it's easier to watch for?"

"Excellent idea. Again, I think I have just the thing", and he went back to his lab, and came back a few minutes later with another syringe. He injected that also into the stone, and nodded to Hobby, indicating he could take it back now.

"What does this do?"

"Gives him orange hair."


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

* * *

 **1991-09-04 08:30 UTC, Hogwarts**

The morning after Slughorn's public display of anger saw the two most powerful wizards in Britain - according to perception anyway, and didn't some management guru say "perception is reality"? - in a similar mood.

In fact, this was a golden opportunity wasted - if they could have met that minute, and allowed to vent against the person who they were currently most angry with, they would have realised they had a lot in common. Who knows from what little acorns the oak tree of friendship grew? Plus Dumbledore already had prior experience with being friends with dark lords!

Sadly for the rest of Britain, none of that happened. Both wizards remained blissfully unaware of their nemesis' plight.

Dumbledore had spent the previous day annoyed with himself at having been taken in so easily. He was not allowed the time to dwell on it too much, because - even though he had skipped breakfast - the news of Slughorn's decision to leave, and how McGonagall had salvaged the situation, had forced his attention. He had tried - vainly - to get Slughorn to stay on as head of Slytherin, but Slughorn was refusing to even remain in any room that he entered, leave alone listen to him!

Once that drama had settled down, and the paperwork (there was _always_ paperwork!) done, it was past mid-morning. He had then rushed off to the room in which he had caught the elf, to check if the stone was still there. Thankfully, it was - clearly the elf had not been able to remove it.

With that, he allowed his thoughts to come back to the bigger problem.

He could not believe he had been overcome so handily. After thinking about it all day, followed by a fitful night of trying to understand how this had happened, he had woken up this morning, freshened up, and suddenly remembered that he had a pensieve.

Slapping his palm to his forehead, he opened the cabinet that held his pensieve and pulled the ancient device out. Holding his wand to his temple, he muttered the spell required to extract his memory of the event, and carefully placed the material into the already more than half-full pensieve. Having done that, he dipped his head into the top of it, and went in, so to speak, to take a good long look.

Once he had viewed the memory, he came out. He had, indeed, allowed himself to be riled far too easily, but there were extenuating circumstances. No one - **absolutely** no one - had **ever** seen a house-elf behave in such a fashion. The language, the phraseology, the diction, everything was human. Not just "human", it was "irreverent teenager".

Who was this elf? Had the so-called Phantom captured a human teen and somehow - who knew what dark magic he knew - forced him to morph into an elf? But then, the elf was happy. No magic in the world could force true, genuine, happiness in anyone, as he well knew. It was not just a matter of dark magic - it had long been determined that happiness was the one emotion that could not be forced.

(A few months after the first love potion was invented, way back in the late seventeenth century, a team of potioneers had tried to create a potion for each of the primary human emotions. They found that they could do all of them except happiness. Then one of them had the idea that, since the tickling charm existed and made people laugh, perhaps this was more in the realm of charms than potions. A team of charms masters then tried the same, with just as much success. Research into inducing happiness continued sporadically among the charms community for a few decades, until 1734, when Tubipore Dillpickle died from a tickling charm that was held too long - he had a heart attack from being forced to laugh for nearly half an hour. That was when people finally realised that tickle-induced laughter was far removed from genuine happiness, and decided to stop chasing that particular dream!)

So, whatever the Phantom had done, it was not forced on this creature, whoever he was. Could a real house-elf be trained to behave like that? What would happen if a wizard treated his elf as an equal, and took care of him the same way someone would treat their own child?

Dumbledore's brain screeched to a halt at that thought. The cognitive dissonance of this extremely unusual concept was too much for the hidebound wizard, and he moved his thoughts back.

He would have to trap the elf within two layers of wards - the inner one would not allow any elf to pass, and the outer one would not allow any wizard except himself to pass. And he would not make the mistake of entering the warded area at all. It was a pity there were no wards that were effective against _both_ elves and wizards, but their magics were too different.

* * *

His fellow "super wizard" was in the same mood, though he had had a small amount of good news too.

After yesterday morning's theatrics at the breakfast table, he had somehow allowed Quirrell to go through the motions of handling the day's classes. No homework was assigned, no detentions given - he would be busy that evening, he had told his unwilling host.

Late that night, he had set out for Little Hangleton to check if the ring was in its place.

His anger at finding the Gaunt shack not just destroyed, but it and the area around it _levelled_ , was impressive.

With Malfoy dead, he had no illusions as to the diary - very likely that was the start of the unravelling of his scheme. No doubt a search of Malfoy's manor was conducted at some point - whether before or after Malfoy's death was not relevant - and this Phantom had found the diary. Analysing that, they would have determined what it was. He must have then approached Slughorn, and asked him the all-important question.

But Slughorn had not known _what_ items he had chosen, nor where he had secreted them. That was something to ask the Phantom when he captured him, but he had to assume he had somehow deduced all this.

He could not approach Gringotts. With Black having taken up the lordship, he would have wreaked as much havoc on Bella's vault as he could, at least after the two Lestranges were dead. No doubt he had found the cup and destroyed it.

That left the locket.

Despite the late hour, and Quirrell moaning and whining about being tired, he had risked a trip to the seaside near the cave.

Quirrell's magic was not equal to going into the cave, traversing the lake, and checking the horcrux in the island in the middle. So Voldemort had contented himself to checking if the outer wall had been breached recently.

He could not get an accurate read on it, but it was clear that no one had been here in _at least_ the last seven to nine years.

Since this so-called Phantom had turned up less than six years ago, he breathed a sigh of relief, and apparated back to Hogwarts' gates.

Still, he needed to be careful. At the moment he had only one horcrux that he was sure of. He could not afford to treat Quirrell too harshly - if he died, he would have a lot of trouble finding a willing host again. His soul was now damaged enough that he may have to bite the bullet and re-absorb the piece in the locket, and that would require Quirrell to be in good shape.

He would bide his time, and focus on softer targets. A very soft target was right here, and a very auspicious date for taking action against him was less than two months away.

After all, to someone who was immortal, what was a mere two months?

Meanwhile, Quirrell never knew what circumstance to thank, but the next two months were pure bliss for him.

* * *

 **1991-09-15 11:30 UTC, Hogwarts**

Hermione and Harry had enjoyed their first couple of weeks in Hogwarts. They were already friends with Neville. The other boys and girls in Gryffindor looked like a decent bunch. Ron - about whom Hobby had been strangely silent - seemed to be tolerable, if a little, shall we say, unintellectual?

Anyway, they had spent the previous weekend settling in socially, so to speak, and now, this second weekend, they decided to step out of the castle for a bit, and take a walk around the lake. The weather was still pretty good, and this was a chance to spend some time with just the two of them, away from the rest of their classmates. They were so used to having only each other, that even having just Neville as an every-day presence was a strange feeling. A _good_ feeling, but strange nevertheless.

Hence the walk.

"What do you think Hobby is doing?" asked Hermione. They had not heard from Hobby after the night of September 1st. He had not turned up even after the Slughorn drama - and Harry was so sure he had _caused_ it too!

"Should we call him, just to chat?"

"Maybe after some time. Let's walk by ourselves for a bit. And I'd rather call him when we're a little further away from the castle, just in case someone is watching".

Harry smiled at his best friend. "Oh I had not thought of that! What would I do without you, Mione?"

Hermione grinned back. She was used to praise from him, and had long ago stopped blushing at his compliments. (No doubt they would start again once both of them got hit by hormones, but that was some years away still).

"What do you make of Malfoy's attempts to rile us?" asked Harry.

Though their two weeks so far were by and large peaceful, a somewhat expected trouble _had_ popped up, albeit in a very mild form. Draco Malfoy appeared to have set his sights on the boy-who-lived, although he was being very Slytherin about it.

He was annoying them in ways that were not actionable, even by a professor who hated him and wanted to punish him. It was nowhere near the bull-in-a-China-shop aggression they had heard of from Hobby.

He had started by ditching his "muscle-men" without making a scene (and thus being very discreet about airing the uncomfortable fact that _they_ had ditched _him_!) He had then picked up a different minion - Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was perfect for him in this - she hated Potter as much as Malfoy himself did, she was as much a blood purist as he was.

Together, they had embarked on a subtle campaign to discredit Harry and Hermione, starting with their own house. One time, when Harry had made some mistake in potions, he had calmly turned to Pansy and said "This is what happens when someone who _could have been_ a proper wizard, goes and stays in the muggle world, of all places." It was not said too loudly, but a good number of people had heard him. More importantly, it was said in a pitying, shaking-head-in-sorrowful-disbelief kind of way.

Slughorn had heard, but - while he was no fan of the child of a convicted death-eater and a just-out-of-jail woman - he couldn't really do anything. Heck, Malfoy hadn't even used the "m" word!

His target, or perhaps targets, since Harry and Hermione were inseparable, did not even blink. They looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and continued working on their potions.

That day, Neville had played straight man, too, with great effect.

"I think little Draco is trying to rile you up, Harry", he had said.

"Well he is certainly _trying_!", Harry had laughed dismissively.

Remembering this and a couple of other similar attempts, Hermione said, "I get the impression that this Draco is very different from the Draco that Hobby knew".

"From what I remember of Hobby's tales of his years, his version of Draco Malfoy would have attempted to intimidate Crabbe and Goyle into coming back to his way of thinking, as it were, whereas this one appeared to have cut them loose within a day of arriving here."

"I think they were standing together at the sorting, but after that I don't remember seeing them again", agreed Hermione.

"So yes", said Harry. "He is definitely more Slytherin in his approach this time".

"Isn't that surprising? That an orphanage would have more Slytherin influence on him than his own father?"

Harry thought about that for a bit. "Well...", he drew out the word, still thinking. "Look at it this way. It appears that his father used to spoil him, and I don't think that's conducive to bringing out any Slytherin tendencies", he laughed. "In Hobby's timeline he never had to _work_ for what he wanted - he just got it!"

"Makes sense, I suppose", Hermione nodded. "So far, he has not succeeded, but he's not letting it show either."

"Well, so far, his shenanigans have been limited to words", she continued. "And we have not been responding at all, which must be really annoying to the little twerp. So I predict he will be 'upping the ante', so to speak".

"Physical attacks?"

"Unlikely. But it all depends. I think Sirius's policy of staying away from him the last three years is backfiring on us. We have no idea what kind of company he kept while at the orphanage. In fact, do we even know how many other kids there were in that place? Where do _they_ go to learn magic? Or do they just learn some trade, like Stan Shunpike or the workers we saw in the magical menagerie?"

Harry, of course, had no idea, so he just nodded. "We'll need to give Sirius a nudge to go and find out".

* * *

 **1991-09-19 06:00 UTC, Gryffindor common room**

The following Thursday was Hermione's birthday, as well as their first flying lesson.

This was Hermione's first birthday away from her parents, but Padfoot and Mooney had sent her a most appropriate present the previous night, via Harry. As soon as he got it, he had rushed to the common room, found Parvati there, and asked her to take a note to Hermione, who had already given Harry a hug goodnight and gone to her dorm.

As a result, bright and early at 6am, Hermione came down the stairs to find Harry waiting for her with an obvious gift in his hand.

He put the gift aside, and pulled her into a hug. Kissing her on the cheek, he wished her a happy birthday, and then said, "you must open Sirius and Remus's present first. Mine is upstairs; I'll get it down in a minute".

He had her sit down - just in case, in her excitement, she dropped it - and watched while she carefully opened the wrapping, extracting a cardboard box, about the size of a somewhat squarish book, from it.

Opening the box, she found a simple mirror, with some runes engraved around the border. It didn't seem like something to get so excited about, but to look at Harry - who was almost vibrating with excitement - there was more here than met the eye.

"What does it do, Harry?"

"Say your mum's name, or your dad's name".

"Kate Granger. Richard Granger", she said to the mirror. Hermione being Hermione, she very quickly guessed what this was, and she could now understand why Harry was so excited.

Her mother and father appeared in the mirror, and she squealed in joy. "Oh mum and dad - I was feeling this was the first birthday I am not with you guys, but this is the next best thing!", she said. With her other hand, she pulled Harry to her and side-hugged him, making sure he was in the picture too.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart", said her mother and father simultaneously. Between them, they could see Sirius and Remus sitting on a sofa. A few seconds later, her mum and dad were also sitting down on an adjoining loveseat, while Remus kept the mirror levitated and focused on all four of them.

"Thank you mum and dad! And Sirus, Remus, this is the best present you could ever have given me - thank you _so_ , _so_ , much", she gushed.

"You're welcome Hermione", said Sirius, while Remus just waved. "Now that we made sure it's working, we will leave you to talk to Richard and Kate". Waving goodbye, the two marauders left.

Harry also discreetly left, ostensibly to get his own present for her. He had, of course, planned it this way so it wouldn't look too awkward, but he need not have feared. While her mother was saying something, she glanced at Harry and mouthed "come back quickly", while waving her hand in an urgent manner.

Harry came back a minute or two later with his present under his arm. It was a silver bracelet that he had purchased one of the few times he and Sirius had gone shopping without Hermione.

As he came up, he heard her mother, in the mirror, say, "...Hedwig must be on her way with it now". Looking at Hermione, he thought he saw her faintly blushing, but decided not to ask.

* * *

 **1991-09-19 15:30 UTC, Hogwarts quidditch pitch**

They spent an hour or so walking around the lake before breakfast. The rest of the day went normally, and now they were on the quidditch pitch, for their first flying lesson. It was supposed to have happened two weeks ago, but Madam Hooch had been laid up with an unexpected bout of some minor but enervating illness (at least as far as the students knew), and had not felt up to the task of supervising newbie flyers till today.

This class included all four houses, so there were a few dozen broomsticks lying on the ground in neat rows. Many of them seemed old, but carefully maintained to be usable, at least for learning. Harry immediately wondered how many of the players in the house teams used their own brooms - using these may be _safe_ enough, but would certainly be a handicap in terms of performance.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville took their places next to each other, with Hermione in the middle. They saw Draco Malfoy take his place opposite Dean, who was a couple of spots away from Harry. He appeared to be very nervous, and was glancing somewhat fearfully at the broomstick.

Hobby had told them something of what had happened here in his timeline (he appeared to be dribbling all the detailed information to them on a "we'll talk about it when it happens" basis, they had noticed). This Draco was nothing like what they had heard - far from boasting about evading muggle helicopters, he did not look like he'd ever flown.

"I don't think that's it", said Harry quietly to Hermione when she voiced her suspicions. "It almost seems like he _had_ flown, but it did not end well".

That made more sense, so she nodded.

Fortunately, all three of them had had some practice - more than enough for Hermione and Neville not to be nervous about it. This Hermione also had the same fear of flying to start with, but it had reduced quite a bit after a few practice sessions (first with Sirius and Remus, then with Harry).

Harry, of course, had taken to it like a duck to water, and absolutely loved flying. He seemed to always be in complete control of the broom, regardless of what stunts he was pulling (or attempting to pull, while under the watchful eye of Sirius and Remus) - it was lucky that the back garden of Grimmauld was not _too_ big, and thus offered limited scope for Harry to really let go.

Once all the students had lined up, each next to one broom, Madam Hooch started off by giving them a short warning "lecture", then told them to hold out their dominant hand and say "UP".

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron succeeded immediately. So did most others, with one or two exceptions here and there who needed help from Madam Hooch.

The only oddball was Draco, who did not even attempt to say "up" to his broom. He had a scared look on his face, confirming to Harry and Hermione that things were _quite_ different this time around.

Eventually, Madam Hooch made her way to him. "Mr Malfoy, what seems to be the problem?"

Draco gulped. "I...", he stammered. "I don't want to. I... I had an accident once, and I never want to fly again. I can't control the broom".

Madam Hooch had never heard of anyone who had magic but was unable to control the broom. Being afraid of heights, while not common, was at least known. This, however, was unheard of.

Resolving to deal with this after the others had started, since they had waited long enough, she told him to wait, and turned to the rest of the class. Glaring at Ron and a few others - not all in Gryffindor - who were sniggering at Malfoy, she said, "mount your brooms, gently kick off, pointing your broom slightly up, like so" - she demonstrated - "and fly around in a gentle circle".

"Do NOT", she continued, "speed up beyond a slow walk, or you may hit one of your classmates. Sit with your back almost straight, bent only a wee bit forward - that will slow down the broom. To stop completely and hover, if you wish to, sit with your back straight. To stop suddenly, lean backwards - the more you lean backwards, the faster you will stop. To the muggleborn or muggle-aware among you, leaning backward is the same as braking, and leaning forward is accelerating."

She demonstrated all this, and spent a few minutes making sure everyone was up and flying slowly in a circle. Hermione was impressed; this was not a mean feat - almost forty kids, many of them newbies at flying, managing to stay up within an area that seemed too small, and not hitting each other. _And not an ATC in sight, though we do have several "towers"_ , she grinned to herself.

At this point, Draco was the only one on the ground, and Madam Hooch was gently coaxing him onto the broom. Hermione was looking down at the scene with a neutral expression - she did not like the boy but neither she nor Harry were the type to gloat. She briefly glanced at Harry, who was flying a bit higher.

Looking back down, she saw Draco glance up briefly, then suddenly scream. His broom shot forward and up at a steep angle, very fast. To her horror, Draco hit the tail of Harry's broom from _underneath_ , with his head, causing Harry's broom to tip almost vertically down.

Any other flyer - even most second and some third years - would have fallen off the broom instantly. The movement was just too sudden, and indeed Harry _almost_ did fall off.

But his reflexes were excellent, and he gripped the broomstick tightly. For a small fraction of a second, all his weight was on his wrists, and he was staring almost directly _down_ at the ground, while flying toward it.

He immediately began pulling up sharply on the front, and by the time the broom had got to within a couple of feet from the ground, he had levelled off.

All this took barely a few seconds - before Hermione could take a breath to scream, there was no longer any reason to.

She and Neville dropped down as fast as they dared, dismounted, and ran to him. Neville got to him first, but he allowed Hermione to catch up and pull Harry into a hug.

After a few seconds, Hermione addressed Harry, but with a glance that included Neville. "We need to talk to Sirius as soon as possible", she said.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

* * *

 **1991-09-19 17:00 UTC, Gryffindor common room**

Harry and Hermione were huddled together in a quiet corner. Between them was a mirror, and in the mirror was Sirius's face, grinning at them.

"So what's up, kiddo", he said. "Why are you calling me at this odd hour; don't we usually talk after 8pm?"

"Something happened just now. Well about an hour ago anyway", said Hermione.

Sirius lost his grin. "Are you both alright?"

"Yes, but it could have gone either way for a moment there", said Hermione. Simultaneously, Harry said "Yes we're both fine, not a big deal".

"OK, one at a time please, one at a time", said Sirius. "Harry, I'll hear your obviously downplayed version later. Hermione, you go first".

"I'm not down-" began Harry, only to be shushed by Hermione.

"Wait your turn Harry", she said to him. Turning to Sirius, she explained about the flying class that day, and that it was the first one for their year, due to some illness Madam Hooch had suffered. Sirius was a little puzzled by that - very few illnesses could last that long in the wizarding world - but he let it go, making a mental note to ask around.

"So anyway, it appears that Draco Malfoy was _extremely_ nervous about flying, to the point of not wanting to fly at all. Madam Hooch was encouraging him to mount the broom and try flying, probably reassuring him it was perfectly safe, and so on."

"Where were you and Harry?"

"I was about fifteen feet up, idling and watching Malfoy and Madam Hooch. Harry was another eight to ten feet above me. The rest of the class was milling around at various heights. There were far too many kids, with too wide a mix of skills, for one person to supervise I think. Madam Hooch was paying more attention to the kids in the air than to the one on the ground, despite the fact that she was talking to him. And I think that's fine of course, but it has a bearing on what happened."

"You're killing me with the suspense", said Sirius. Again, simultaneously, Harry said "oh come on, you're dramatising it too much!" but piped down on a glare from Hermione.

"Anyway Malfoy appeared to have mounted his broom and kicked off, but then he screamed and the broom took off like a rocket."

Sirius did not like where this was going. Only the fact that his godson was clearly alright, and in fact mildly exasperated at Hermione, prevented him from rushing to Hogwarts right then. He waited for Hermione to continue.

"He hit Harry's broom tail from the bottom, with his head, and he was going fast enough to upend it completely - Harry's broom was suddenly pointing vertically down, and in a fraction of a second Harry would have fallen off the broom and would have fallen more than twenty feet to the ground, head-first. Luckily, his reflexes saved him."

Sirius turned to Harry, a question plain in his gaze.

"Well, I don't recall _thinking_ too much - just gripped the handle a bit tighter with my hands, gripped the broom a little tighter with my legs, and then, and levelled off as quickly as I could".

"We spoke to Madam Hooch about it afterward", said Hermione. "And so far we are agreed. Broadly. But there's one thing that I noticed which she - because she was paying attention to the kids already in the air as I said - did not."

She took a deep breath. "The thing is, I am almost 100% sure that he started his scream _first_ , and _then_ the broom took off. That does not sound natural".

Harry had not heard this. In all her talk about needing to speak to Sirius, and in all her discussion with Madam Hooch after the incident, she had not mentioned this.

"What are you getting at?"

"I think it was all an act, but I don't know how to prove it".

"Oh that part is easy", said Sirius. "Let me swing by in an hour, say just before dinner".

* * *

About three-quarters of an hour later, Harry got word from Professor McGonagall that she wanted to see him. He and Hermione went to Professor McGonagall's office, to find Sirius also in there, beaming at them.

After a round of hugs, and fresh, in-person, birthday greetings from Sirius to Hermione, they got down to business. Sirius pulled out a pensieve from a bag, and explained to Hermione how it worked. A few minutes later, they were all entering her memory.

When they came out, it was a close call who was angrier - Professor McGonagall or Sirius. (Actually, Hermione's anger would have beaten theirs, but her mind had had plenty of time to process what happened. Still, seeing confirmation of something she was _hoping_ she was wrong about, was not a good feeling.)

"His scream did come out a second too soon to be fear", said Sirius. "But what's more, after it was over, there was a slight smirk on his face", said Sirius.

Minerva nodded. "I hate to say this, but he also landed too expertly - no one noticed only because they were focused on Harry."

"Should we tell Dumbledore?"

"Well, I am suppose to inform him."

"Here's my take on this, Minerva. I am going to follow up on this, but privately. Outside Hogwarts actually - he couldn't have learned all that in two weeks of being at Hogwarts. Dumbledore will only complicate things needlessly, while trying to shove everything under the carpet."

Minerva could only nod in agreement.

"Wait until I figure out what has been going on outside. If Dumbledore asks you about it, remind him that Draco Malfoy and his mother live on my generosity, and it is my problem to deal with if someone I am paying a living allowance to, decides to try and hurt my godson. In short, this is a Black family matter".

* * *

 **1991-09-20 09:00 UTC, unnamed apartment block, Diagon Alley**

Despite the fact that he was paying for it, Sirius had never actually been here. It wasn't a bad place, it wasn't run over by seedy or shady people or anything. It was actually quite respectable, without being anywhere near affluent.

Narcissa had wrinkled her nose at having to live here, but when she had moved in, there had not been anyone around to feel the effect of that expression. She had no house-elves, no help of any kind. Her living allowance was not quite a pittance, but was close enough to be one, and she got it, she knew, under the sufferance of Lord Black.

Her days were spent in alternating moods of depression, and thoughts of revenge. Today was, luckily for her, a "depression" day - things would have turned out much differently if Sirius had met her on a "planning revenge" day.

When the bell rang, she waved a wand at the door to open it, without even bothering to check who it was on the other side.

She sobered up quickly, wiping her melancholic expression off her face (though it did not escape Sirius' notice), and stood up. "Lord Black, what brings you here?"

Sirius entered the room, grabbed the only other chair, and sat down regally. He would have loved to have turned the chair around and sat astride it, hands over the back, to rub in her face that he was _not_ a tradition-bound "lord", but this was not the time for that. She respected and feared only tradition, at least as far as he knew.

"What do you know of your son's plans to attempt to murder my godson?", he asked bluntly.

If he had hoped to throw her off-balance, he succeeded. She goggled at him, and could not form a coherent sentence. "I- I- have no- no idea what you mean", she stuttered. "Draco would not do such a thing. I have repeatedly told him that we could not risk alienating you, and I have explained why in great detail."

"What was his reaction? Did he take it as generosity, or humiliation?"

"He has lived in an orphanage the last three years, Lord Black, so it was definitely gratitude for your generosity. I did worry when he said he had been visiting his godfather, but thankfully that did not seem to have an effect on him".

"What godfather?"

"Didn't you know? Severus Snape is his godfather. I know he is under house arrest, but he was allowed visitors, it seems, and someone has been taking Draco to visit him at regular intervals over the past three years". She blanched on seeing Sirius's expression. "I thought you knew, my lord", she said plaintively.

* * *

 **1991-09-20 09:30 UTC, DMLE offices**

"What can I do for you, Lord Black", said Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Please, call me Sirius. If things hadn't turned out so bad for me ten years ago, we would have been at least friends by now, if not colleagues", smiled Sirius, turning on his charm in full. He wanted to get to know this person anyway, since he had heard good things about him from Hobby.

"Well then you should call me Kingsley, although many people find 'Shack' easier to say so the choice is yours", grinned Shacklebolt. "Now tell me, what seems to be the problem".

"Do you have a pensieve I can show you something in?"

* * *

After they came out of the pensieve, Sirius said, "Clearly, someone has coached him. There's far too much subterfuge to be a mere child's revenge, especially the pretence at not being able to fly - you saw how well he landed? So I paid his mother, who lives on an allowance I am making her due to her being a former Black daughter, a visit".

"She's only been out a month before young Malfoy would have left for Hogwarts, wouldn't she?"

"Yes. And I am convinced she did not know anything about this, nor did she have any hand in it. But I found out something quite concerning".

Kingsley nodded at him to continue.

"Draco Malfoy's godfather is Severus Snape, it seems. And it seems young Draco has been visiting Snape at regular intervals. My first question to you is, is that allowed? That is, is Snape allowed visitors at all? Depending on the answer to that, I have to proceed in one of two different directions".

Kingsley looked worried. "I'd have to check - we get so few house arrest punishments you see". He called for one of his aurors to bring him Snape's case file first.

After a few minutes, the case file arrived, and Kingsley quickly glanced through it. "Well", he sighed, "this does not have anything about the terms of the house arrest; we'll have to check elsewhere to determine if visits are allowed. Meanwhile, are you sure his godson has been visiting him?"

"Again, she seemed genuine enough. In fact she thought I already knew".

Kingsley once again called one of his men to send him the roster of duty for Snape's house arrest supervision. There were several junior aurors on that rotation, and it would not be easy to figure out which it was.

Sirius looked over his shoulder at the roster. Six aurors, on a rotating schedule spread to repeat over twelve days. Without knowing when-

"How about we go check out the orphanage records, maybe they kept records of when Draco was taken out for visits?", said Sirius.

Shacklebolt smiled. "You'd have been a good auror, Sirius! Let's go".

While, normally, this would be a job for one of his junior aurors, the fact that Lord Black would anyway be going along, made it different. Even, perhaps, a bit of a protocol issue. He would see to this himself.

* * *

They returned from the orphanage with a list of dates - the times were always the same: he was picked up around 5pm, and would return around 8pm.

The dates and times matched up perfectly with the days when one particular auror - Warren Mellman - was on duty.

Luckily, he was not on the Snape rotation that day, and happened to be in the office. Kingsley called for him to meet him in his office rightaway.

He was a young man, barely a few years out of the academy. This was certainly not a death-eater wannabe, in fact he was a half-blood, according to his file.

Setting him at ease with a smile, Kingsley asked him to sit down, and started. "You have been on the Snape rotation for the last two, almost three, years?"

"Yes Sir".

"And you have been taking a young man to see Snape once every couple of weeks or so?"

"I- I did not see anything wrong with that, Sir, he's just a child, what harm could he do?"

"What about harm to the child, from the prisoner?"

"I admit I thought so too, but the child was his godson, sir, and after the first visit it was clear they both enjoyed the visit. A boy in an orphanage sir, and such a simple pleasure which didn't cost anyone anything. I didn't have the heart to to refuse, sir".

"Do you know what the rules are for a house arrest, especially about visitors?"

"Yes sir, I believe they are allowed visitors, according to-" and here he quoted some chapter, section, sub-section.

That answer was too pat. And too obscure for someone that junior to even know. This was interesting.

"Did you know we've been looking for that piece of information since this morning and have not had any luck?" (This was not, strictly speaking, true. But it _could_ have been!) "How is it that a junior auror had call to dig up such an obscure reference?"

"Umm, I didn't dig it up sir. I-" - he seemed to hesitate.

"You were told. By Snape. When he asked you to get his godson for him", state Kingsley flatly.

"Oh no sir, it was not-" then he clammed up.

Making a mental note never to send this guy on an undercover mission, Kingsley waited patiently, while looking directly at the man.

"Umm, it was Professor Dumbledore, sir. He told me of the law section, because at first I refused, saying it was illegal for a prisoner to have visitors. He showed me the relevant section, and only then did I agree".

Well, that earned him brownie points. And not being able to resist Dumbledore, or falling for his manipulation, was hardly a crime, and if it was, they'd have to arrest a lot more people.

"What exactly did he tell you? Did he try to defend Snape?"

"No sir, I would not have fallen for that; I suffered under Snape too you know".

"So what did Dumbledore tell you?"

"He told me about the boy sir. He said Snape was the boys godfather, and the only person who could show him any affection. That it would be cruel to punish a child for the sins of his parents, and the least we could so was to show him things weren't as bad as they appeared, and to give him hope for the future, so he would be a productive member of society".

"How the **heck** do you remember all that tripe Dumbledore spouted at you?", interjected Sirius. "Do you know what this sweet, loving, child did to my godson?"

"Wait", said Kingsley. "Did Snape have a broomstick, and did he teach young Malfoy to fly?"

"Yes sir. The house was big enough to have a backyard with all the protections to keep the prisoners in - he couldn't have flown out if he wanted so it was perfectly safe."

Sirius turned to Kingsley. "What the heck kind of punishment is that?"

"Well, a house arrest means he can't get out. Everything else is fine. Supposedly. Including having visitors! I don't like it but if that's the law, that's what we have to work with."

"Then I am thinking we were too lenient on him back then", said Sirius. Turning to the auror, he asked, "would you like to see what Snape's godson did to my godson?"

* * *

 **1991-09-24 08:00 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Courtroom 10**

This time Dumbledore was not informed. In fact, security was beefed up so he could not enter the main courtroom floor, even if he got wind of it and attempted to enter. (In the event, he _did_ find out, but could only watch from the public gallery - unable to say or do anything).

The Chief Witch, Madam Longbottom, took the chair, and formally started the trial.

"This is a somewhat unusual trial. Here" - she indicated the prisoner's chair, where Snape sat with a stoic expression on his face - "we have a prisoner who was given some leeway during his last interaction with this court. A leeway which, if I am to believe what I am told, was abused quite heavily. And abused in such a manner that it nearly caused the death of Lord Black's godson."

No one needed to be told who said godson was, of course, so there were some gasps at that statement.

"We will try to make this short. Since the prisoner is already under a sentence, albeit a very generous one, his rights as to use of veritaserum do not exist, so we will use the truth potion". Here she beckoned to one of the aurors, who stepped up to Snape with a vial of potion.

A wand lit in one of the front rows. Madam Longbottom acknowledged the wizard who had raise it, permitting him to speak.

"Snape is an accomplished potions master, who has ready access to hundreds of potions ingredients in his day job. Might it not be that he has already consumed a counter to the truth potion?"

"Excellent thought, Mr Abbott. That is why we arrested him three days ago, and had him on a flushing potion regimen since then", smiled Minister Bones, answering the question on behalf of the Chief Witch.

By this time the veritaserum was administered. After the usual "test" questions, the real ones started.

"Did you teach Draco Malfoy how to ride a broom?"

"Yes"

"Was he a good flyer?"

"He was an excellent flyer".

"Then why would he pretend, in school, to be terrified of a broomstick and - at first - refuse to fly?"

"In order to escape detection and punishment".

"Detection of and punishment for what?"

"Of attempting to injure the Potter bastard".

So much for veritaserum suppressing emotions.

"Did you tell him to injure Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived?"

"Of course not. He's a child, he might freak out and not do anything!"

"So what did you tell him?"

"I told him Potter would only be mildly injured, at worst, and that he was a prankster, just like his dad, so it would be OK. After that it would be upto luck - hopefully Potter would be in hospital for a few days."

"Would you have attempted to kill the boy, if you could do so without being found out?"

Snape did not answer. Clearly he was ambivalent on the matter.

They gave him the antidote.

"I have only one question for you, Mr Snape. It is not a question you need to answer so I am posing this to you after the antidote has been applied. Did you consider the effect on your godson if he had perpetrated what he thought was a mere prank, but ended up **killing** Mr Potter?"

Snape had no answer. Perhaps the thought had not occurred to him. Or perhaps it had, and he had considered the trauma an acceptable price to pay, though someone else was paying it.

Sirius raised his wand, and given permission to speak. "I have a question for Mr Snape", he said formally.

"Please go on".

"Mr Snape, what exactly did a young child of eleven do to you that you would want to injure him, possible fatally."

"He is a Potter spawn who is living it up with his godfather, while I am rotting in house arrest and my godson is in an orphanage", spat Snape.

"Are you forgetting that I rotted in **Azkaban** for several years, and my godson was in an abusive household, while you were living it up making students' lives miserable at Hogwarts, and your godson had both parents alive and well?" said Sirius in outrage.

The court eventually decided that he had clearly violated at least the spirit of his house arrest, and abused it badly. His arrest terms were changed to Azkaban, maximum security, no visitors of any kind for the next twenty years.

Despite the lack of dementors, Azkaban was still not a pleasant place. Twenty years in solitary was not easy to survive. Snape would be released years later, but by then he would be a raving lunatic. St Mungos would gain another long term patient.

The auror who had facilitated the visits was kept out of it - that would then involve Dumbledore, but the issue was too small to hurt him seriously. Sirius wanted Dumbledore dealt with in a more decisive manner, one where he simply could not get away without being jailed a good long time. This case was not big enough to do that.

Young Draco Malfoy was temporarily removed from Hogwarts by his Lord Black, despite Dumbledore's behind-the-scenes attempts to stall what was effectively a suspension. He spent the next couple of weeks with his mother. Sirius could not say Narcissa had turned around - he would never trust her that far - but she knew which side her bread was buttered. He made swearing a loyalty oath a condition for further financial or other support, and he got it: both from her and from Draco Malfoy, with her permission as his guardian.

Draco Malfoy would continue in Hogwarts, but would never again be a problem for Harry.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

* * *

 **1991-09-24 21:00 UTC, Hogwarts, headmaster's office**

That evening, after they were sure most of the students would be out of the common areas, the Marauders took the floo to The Three Broomsticks, on their way to Hogwarts.

"It's been ages since I saw you Siri", greeted Rosie warmly. While Remus rolled his eyes, Sirius went right up to her and gave her a very affectionate hug. Noticeably, he did not wink or make any suggestive remarks, choosing instead to let go after a second or two.

"Yes it has, hasn't it? That's what having to take care of a godson means, I suppose. But now that he's in school, I am sure I can visit much more often".

"You should, and Remus - you too. You look like you guys could use a drink once in a while, and some conversation. Just like old times!"

"Just like old times", sighed Sirius, suddenly becoming less jolly. This was one of the places where they had spent the maximum amount of time (other than Hogwarts itself of course), so speaking of old times would suddenly bring back to the forefront of his mind the loss of James and Lily.

"Oh Siri, cheer up; you've got a new marauder to teach!", said Rosie, realising a bit late what her off-hand comment had done.

Sirius smiled at her, and the two said their goodbyes. "We'll be back in an hour or so", said Remus.

* * *

The silence of the night at Hogwarts was broken by a muffled roar. Sirius had refused to walk the long path from the main gates to the building proper, so he had shrunk his motorcycle and brought it along. Luckily, he had modified the sound - almost silencing it completely, leaving just enough of a low growl to warn people something was coming.

Fortunately, Remus managed to convince him not to _fly_ the damn thing all the way to Dumbledore's office, so they dutifully parked it outside the main doors, and walked in. They first paid a visit to their old head of house, spent some time updating her on various happenings, and then went to the headmaster's office.

Albus Dumbledore was, as expected, sitting at his desk. He did not appear to be doing anything; rather, he was staring into space, with an unreadable expression on his face.

Sirius and Remus knocked on the door, then pushed it open and walked in. Dumbledore had never locked it, per se - at least not while he was in. Students _thought_ it was locked, and waited, but Sirius knew better.

"Come in, my bo-" - Sirius glared at him - "excuse me, Lord Black and Mr Lupin. What brings you here?"

 _As if he didn't know, the old bastard_ , thought Sirius.

"We just came to gloat and rub it in your face", said Sirius, with an unholy, gleeful, smirk.

Just as Dumbledore was about to object to this, the door opened again, admitting Professor McGonagall. She calmly drew up a chair and sat down, not even greeting anyone else in the room.

Disheartened (but not too surprised, apparently), Dumbledore turned to Remus, as if hoping he would tone down Sirius's enthusiasm. But Remus did nothing of the sort - although he was less open about it, it was clear that he was about half-way to Sirius's way of thinking, if only because he did not attempt to stop or curb Sirius in any way.

"Well, headmaster, I happen to agree with the general direction, if not the exact words, of Sirius's mood right now. What you don't appear to have realised, is that only the sheerest of luck, and Harry's reflexes, saved him from what could well have been instant death last Thursday".

"Surely you exaggerate", said Dumbledore with an ingratiating smile. He had been on thin ice with these people for a few years now, although - apart from Sirius's incarceration - he was hard pressed to imagine what he had done that was so bad (such was his self-delusion!)

Sirius calmly pulled out a vial from his pocket, and said, "You have a pensieve, don't you?"

Dumbledore summoned his pensieve from a side cabinet, and, once the memory had been transferred, they all entered.

Just before Malfoy's action started, Sirius paused the playback. "Notice how he has been nervous all this time?", and waited for Dumbledore to nod before resuming.

When Draco's fearful scream started, he paused again. "Notice that the broom has not started moving yet?" Again, he waited for a nod, then resumed.

The next pause was at the moment that the broomstick was vertical - you could see Harry's knuckles go white with the grip he was forced to keep on the handle, to avoid falling off.

A couple of seconds later, Sirius pointed out Draco's smirk, and his landing.

When they exited, Dumbledore appeared a little bit shaken, but only to Minerva, who knew him very well. To Sirius and Remus, he still appeared the same.

"I agree that Mr Malfoy was up to something, but that seemed more like a prank that went slightly wrong. I notice Harry had no trouble at all, and I believe he did not even have to visit the hospital wing".

Minerva had been silent all this time; in fact she had not said a word since she entered, not even within the pensieve. It was a bit unnerving for Dumbledore, but he did not show it.

Now she spoke up. "You imbecile, I have no idea how you got the reputation you have - if you cannot see that if Harry's reflexes had been a minute fraction slower he would have completely fallen off and hit the ground headfirst, there is no hope for you."

"And by the way", said Remus, "if that had happened, he _still_ would not have visited the hospital wing. It would be straight to the grave - not much even Poppy can do with someone who's already dead".

"I think you are all exaggerating. While I regret what happened, when Mr Malfoy is back he will be discip-"

"You will not do **anything** to Mr Malfoy. I have already told you this is a family matter and I will deal with it", said Sirius sternly.

"When will he return to the school?"

"That is also not your concern. Your deputy has been informed in writing; if she feels you need to know, she will tell you".

Minerva's silence told him that was not going to happen. He decided not to go _asking_ for a snub and wisely kept quiet.

"But the real point is this. Do you remember when you told me you would put me back in Azkaban if I continued to try and get my godson away from his abusive relatives?"

"I do not believe the Dursley's were abusive. They were probably stri-"

Again he was interrupted, this time by Remus. It was not anywhere near the full moon, but you could see his temper was not from the normally placid wizard.

He stood up, towering over the sitting headmaster, and slammed both his hands on the desk, scattering papers, quills, and ink to the sides.

"You fucking moron, his bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs! Have you forgotten? He was starved, he had no emotional support, he had learnt not to speak unless spoken to, not to ask for anything, ever. What the **fuck** does that mean you sanctimoniously son of a bitch?"

Sirius put a hand on Remus's arm, and gradually settled him down. He knew where this anger was coming from - the other timeline's Dumbledore had done a number on Remus - but this one did not know that, and there was no way they were telling him. Besides, he would just shrug it off and say "I would never do that" or something.

"Back to my point", continued Sirius. "You threatened me with Azkaban, so your pet death-eater is now there. To be fair, he should have been there all along - this was merely justice delayed. This is the consequence of your meddling with Snape's house arrest, and having his godson visit him."

Dumbledore paled. At no time during the trial had his connection been mentioned, nor even the name of the auror who had facilitated those visits, so he assumed no one had dug into that aspect of the incident. For once, his face was an open book.

"Oh wow, he thought we didn't know!", laughed Sirius, slapping his knee.

"Does it feel good to know _you_ caused your pet minion Snape to be in Azkaban? You know he won't survive, plus he is still wondering why you had him framed the first time", said Remus.

"Oh by the way, I managed to get a small piece of parchment to him via the boatman. It just mentioned that you had paid an auror to send his godson to him regularly, knowing he could not resist the temptation to try something foolish, and that the results were far beyond expectation. So now he's wondering why you would screw him a _second_ time!", chuckled Sirius.

Dumbledore put his head in his hands. "I cannot believe you would be so cruel, Sirius", he moaned.

And instantly regretted it, when Sirius - all too predictably - said, "Cruel? Cruel is being sent to Azkaban without having done any of the things you were charged with. Cruel is knowing you're the only person in Azkaban to not even have a trial, while also knowing that known death-eaters still walked free."

"Unfortunately, Sirius, you have no hope of visiting that fate upon the headmaster", said Remus. "When he does go to Azkaban, it will still be for things he has actually done".

"You speak as if it is a foregone conclusion. As if I have been already charged, tried, and sentenced", protested Dumbledore.

"It's only a matter of time, old man. You are too old to actually listen to good advice, so it won't be long. Speaking of advice, I **strongly** suggest you do all you can to make sure the school is safe for all the students. And I mean completely safe, as safe as you can make it, do you understand my meaning?"

"The school is perfectly safe, as you well know".

"And yet my godson nearly died a few days ago. But I am speaking of much more than an eleven year old mini-death-eater. I am speaking of stuttering defense professors with a terrible, terrible, smell of garlic pervading them. You have been warned".

Nodding to Minerva, the two Marauders left the room.

Minerva turned to Dumbledore. "Do you also remember, headmaster" - that hurt, using his designation - "how you said you will not interfere with any teacher's handling of their classes? Do you remember how soon after that Snape was arrested, because of something that - according to court records - _you_ instigated?"

Dumbledore looked pained. "I assure you Minerva, I did not-"

"Oh I am pretty sure you did not. But Snape is sure you did. Do you know why he was so ready to believe you would do something like that, something that does not make any sense?"

She waited till Dumbledore indicated she should continue.

"Because you _always_ do things that are incomprehensible to us. And _that_ is because you are unwilling to _explain_ the thinking behind your actions. And _that, in turn_ , is because you _hate_ giving anyone else **the bloody facts** ", she said harshly.

"Minerva, what-"

"Don't you 'Minerva' me, headmaster! Don't think we don't know what you've got hidden behind the locked room on the third floor corridor. You think by cutting off our information when we refused to help you, you actually achieved anything? A lot more people know about the fake stone you put there than you-"

She stopped to read his expression.

"Oh this is precious! You did not know that we knew what it was?"

"How-"

"You're the last person who deserves any answers, for the reasons I just explained - that you never give any. But I will tell you lots of people know, including my two lions who just left the room".

Dumbledore did not ask how they knew. Clearly the Phantom or his elf had been more successful than he had realised. He needed to go check on the stone again.

"Oh they didn't steal it, or if they did I think they put it back where they found it. Still, I would take their warning seriously, if I were you."

Saying which, she smartly got up, turned to the door, and walked out with a cheery wave. At the door, she paused, turned her head toward him, and said, "On the other hand, I don't think you're capable of learning, and you always under-estimate people. So I'll send my elf sometime next week to measure the windows and the door for new curtains".

Dumbledore looked really confused. This was one non-sequitur too far for him, but he dared not ask her what she meant. Or rather, he was afraid of what her answer might be!

* * *

 **1991-09-24 22:00 UTC, location unknown**

Sirius and Remus reported back to Nick and Penny (and Hobby) about what had happened at Hogwarts, while enjoying a late snack and refreshments.

"Most importantly, Dumbledore now knows that we know about the fake stone. I wanted to tell him myself, but Minerva said she would like to do that herself. I think she's really really pissed at him for meddling in Draco and Snape's lives, and indirectly almost causing Harry's death, but more than that, for coddling Snape all these years, while refusing to listen to any objections about him from herself or the others".

There were nods all round, then silence for some time. It was getting late, and Remus at least had an early morning appointment the next day. Sirius elected to go home also, but before they dispersed, Hobby brought up a subject they really needed to discuss.

"When would be the best time to expose and get rid of Quirrellmort? To be precise, when we should pull Voldemort out of Quirrell's body and trap him before sending the spirit into the veil. Sending Quirrellmort will of course have the same effect, but I want Voldemort revealed in front of as many people as possible."

"Not precisely. Or at least not enough. We need to make sure it is revealed that not only did Voldemort possess Quirrell, but that Dumbledore _knew_ about this at the beginning of the year."

"Oh yes, that too!"

"I think it would all depend on how Quirrellmort is behaving. We will need to have some excuse to have Amelia or Rufus land up there, leave alone anyone else. So - one way this could go wrong is if Quirrellmort decided to try something at a time when we're not already there and we don't find out fast enough or we don't have the time to get there fast enough".

Hobby piped up. "I think I'll try and be there as much as I can, and prepare some things - the chamber for instance. And meanwhile I'll try and work out some way to prevent Quirrellmort from taking any serious action till Halloween. Halloween gives us a plausible reason to have certain people visit Hogwarts, or post some additional aurors, or whatever. If we can end all this on the day it all went bad for us, that'll be great!"

* * *

 **1991-10-06 11:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Over the last couple of weeks - ever since Draco Malfoy's unofficial suspension and departure from school - Pansy Parkinson had been visibly more agitated. After Crabbe and Goyle had deserted Draco so openly, Pansy had stepped up to be his sidekick, and it was clear that Draco's departure had upset her.

Only Hermione appeared to have noticed her behaviour, though, which she thought was odd, until she realised that Pansy appeared to be attempting to get her alone, that is, without Harry nearby.

 _It may just be that she wants to talk_ , she thought, but did not tell Harry - no point worrying him, and anyway she did not really think Pansy was actually capable of hurting her. That does not mean she was complacent - she still took precautions whenever she would potentially be alone in some part of the castle without Harry nearby.

Of course, this was rare - being firsties, they all had the same classes anyway - but they weren't joined at the hip, and did give each other some space. While in the muggle school, neither had tried to cultivate other friends, that was more because they knew those friendships would not last, and if cultivated, would involve a lot of creative lying over the next few years, due to the statute of secrecy. Here, in Hogwarts, they could afford to make lasting friendships, and although Hermione had not yet found someone worthy of that (Daphne was the closest), Harry certainly did not lack for friends.

Pansy finally managed it on a Sunday morning, just shy of two weeks from the Tuesday that Draco had been removed from school. Harry had gone off to watch some quidditch practices, on an invitation from the twins. Hermione was also invited, but she declined politely, saying she had some reading to catch up on in the library.

Pansy was waiting a few rooms before the library. At 11 am on a Sunday, there was virtually no danger of any "traffic", so there was no one else.

"I need to speak to you Granger", she said, indicating a room behind her.

The incident on her birthday had changed Hermione also. She had lost most of her tact, politeness, and manners - at least to people "on the wrong side", so to speak.

It was not the stories Hobby had told her and Harry over the past few years.

It was not even the Dolohov experience, horrifying though it was.

More than all that, it was seeing someone as young as Draco try to murder, or at least seriously injure, a fellow student that had an impact on Hermione. Suddenly, all the things Hobby had told her, especially about his decision to not ever give them a chance, turned from vague concepts and philosophical thought-experiments, to hard reality - a simple clarity in her mind about what this _actually_ meant, _on the ground_.

And the fact that the target was her Harry only served to raise her hackles further.

She had no intention of being nice to this girl, who clearly appeared to support Draco Malfoy.

She shrugged. "You may 'need'" - Hermione used finger-quotes - "to speak to me, but I don't need to speak to you. As such, if you want to say something, say it right here, and make it quick, because I have no intention of cutting down on my precious reading time. It's a Sunday, and Madam Pince closes the library early".

"Afraid of me, mudblood?"

"Use that word one more time and we will test whose blood is more muddy."

"Hmph. Anyway, I did not come here to trade insults. I wanted to te-"

Hermione interrupted. "Then you should not have started with the insults. Is this what being a pureblood means - that you have no manners, can't think critically about your own actions, and always blame the other person?"

With a visible effort, Pansy stayed on the track she originally wanted to be on. "I wanted to tell you, I know your friend had something to do with Draco disappearing, and as soon as Draco comes back, he will get him. You might want to warn Potter. And you may want to start finding other friends, just in case Draco decides you also deserve to be dealt with".

"I see. And what does 'dealt with' mean, precisely?"

"Could be anything. The next accident may not happen when so many people are watching. Draco is smart, and I am sure he won't make the same mistake again."

"And I suppose you will be there with him, supporting him?"

"Of course".

"Why? His father is dead, his mother is an ex-con. They live in a poky little flat, paid for by Lord Black - who by the way is Harry's godfather, in case you forgot. If something happens to Harry, Lord Black's anger and vengeance will be like nothing ever seen before. Doesn't Draco have the barest amount of the self-preservation instinct?"

"As I said, it won't be so blatant. If it cannot be proven, then there's nothing Lord Black can do."

"Harry will tell-" - she caught herself at the smirk on the other girl's face. "Are you _seriously_ suggesting Draco Malfoy would _murder_ Harry, quietly and without witnesses, and assume that he will be safe?"

Pansy smirked some more.

"Pathetic, Parkinson. You don't seem to get it - Lord Black would not even need veritaserum to get the truth out of him. As a Black, he would simply _order_ Draco to tell the truth, and Draco would have no choice but to comply. I am told it is enforced by some family magic - and I am shocked that a proper pureblood like yourself has to be reminded of this by a so-called _mudblood_!"

Pansy's smirk had vanished by the time Hermione stopped speaking. Clearly she had not thought of that.

While she was talking, she had quietly gotten closer to Pansy. She did not want to use magic, so it was best to close in.

Too late, Pansy realised Hermione was within touching distance, and she instinctively put up her wand, a curse on her lips.

Hermione knew what had happened to Madam Edgecombe - Hobby had explained that to her also. She did not want Pansy to suffer something like that - at least not yet. So, instead of wrenching the hapless girl's wand out of her hand, and risking the curse acting on the hand, she simply struck from underneath, making the curse - a simple stunner, as it turned out - hit the ceiling instead.

She then held Pansy's wand hand tight in her right hand, including the handle of the wand, and with her left, struck the base of the wand sharply upward, snapping it in two unequal pieces. Pansy appeared to want to scream, so she slapped the girl hard - hard enough to leave an imprint.

"It is not Slytherin to make threats. If you have the guts, do something. Just know that I will be watching, and I don't take prisoners, if you get my drift. I have already caused the death of one death-eater, and I have no qualms about repeating that with anyone else who threatens me and my friends".

 _Well, technically, if no one had found him and treated him, Dolohov_ _ **would**_ _have died from my accidental magic, so that's not a lie_ , she thought to herself.

By now Pansy was thoroughly beaten, and not just in body. She backed off from Hermione, turned, and ran. In her hurry, though she tripped on her own feet making the turn, and fell hard.

Hermione walked up to her menacingly. Grabbing the girl by the hand, she pulled her up hard, and asked, "who is waiting in that room you invited me into? Why haven't they come out to rescue you?"

"The- There's no one there. I only wanted to- to ta- talk".

Hermione pulled her into the room, and then pushed her onto one of the chairs. It was dusty, but Pansy did not dare to object.

"Hobby", she called. A moment later, Hobby popped in.

"I need to speak to the Phantom, could you ask your master to come here please?", she said. Hobby took one look at Pansy, and immobilised her silently. "Just in case, Hermione, I have immobilised this girl, whoever she is. My master will be here shortly".

Hermione made herself comfortable. She knew Hobby could just pop out, change form, and pop back in, but was probably delaying a bit to make it more realistic - his master could not be seen to have nothing to do but answer summons from children, now, could he?

A couple of minutes later, the Phantom popped in. He freed Pansy first, then asked Hermione what happened.

Hermione told him everything.

He listened carefully, then said, "do you want me to deal with the girl?"

"No of course not! I'll deal with the girl, you deal with her father. If this is coming from him" - here Pansy blanched; clearly this was her own idea - "you can deal with him as you see fit. If not, then _he_ can deal with Pansy as he sees fit."

The Phantom nodded and popped out.

Hermione turned to Pansy.

"Now what do I do with you?", she muttered to herself.

"Please let me go. I- I- I won't come near you or Potter again, and I will make sure Draco doesn't."

"That you will, my dear, that you will", said Hermione in her best Ernst Blofeld voice (modulo the fact that she was girl). "But you need to be punished for what you have done, don't you?"

"I have not done anything! The spell did not connect and anyway it was only a stunner. Please let me go."

"Oh I am not talking about the spell and the threats you silly girl. Don't you realise you cost me at least half an hour of library time?"

While the girl was goggling at her, she turned and walked to the door. "You're lucky I don't want to waste even _more_ time dealing with you. Be off now, and mind you stay away as you said".

Saying which, she left the room.

* * *

AN: Sorry to say, but this story is coming to an end. Almost everything that needs to be dealt with, has been dealt with - only the two dark lords remain! Next chapter will probably be the last. If I can get it out on October 31st, it'll be somewhat symbolic, because what happens in that chapter is also on the same day! I will try my best to do so.

I thank all of you for your kind reviews. As I said in the AN in chapter 1, I did not write this for the reviews, and I admit I did not always read them avidly either, but I did peruse them from time to time, and I really appreciate the kind words very much. This is my first long fic (and 4th fic overall) and the encouragement feels good! Thanks again!


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

 **For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.**

 **1991-10-07 08:00 UTC, Hogwarts great hall**

At breakfast on Monday morning, three houses were making the normal amount of noise that you hear from any group of children of varying ages, while the Slytherin table was eerily quiet.

The Hogwarts grapevine was running full speed, so it was not long before _everyone_ knew what had happened.

Late the previous evening, an hour or so after dinner, Lord Parkinson had come to Hogwarts. He had been closeted with Dumbledore and Prof Sinestra (the new Slytherin head of house after the Slughorn incident) for more than half an hour. Then, all three had spent almost the same amount of time in the Slytherin common room, where _all_ Slytherins, no exceptions allowed - had been made to assemble.

Pansy had then been removed from Hogwarts for a period of two weeks by her father. The rest of Slytherin had been told that any further incidents such as this, with either Harry Potter or Hermione Granger, would be met with _severe_ reprisals from Lord Black.

This caused several people to look strangely at Harry and Hermione. Harry himself was quite embarrassed. He had never wished to be the "when my godfather hears about it" type of kid, but two things kept him quiet. First, Hermione had dealt with the problem adequately _before_ calling Hobby. Second, some of these incidents looked to be well beyond normal schoolyard fighting or bullying, and - in Hobby's past - it was the lack of adult intervention that had eventually escalated into many of these kids becoming murderers.

With that incident, however, what little support the Dark Lord may have been able to count on among people previously allied or sympathetic to him, dissolved into thin air. Sure, the number of them with children (or grand children, or nieces) at Hogwarts were few, but they counted, and the message had spread.

Lord Black was effectively the ruler of magical Britain, or at least would be if he cared enough to think of it like that. The only ones who could challenge him were, ironically, also those who were hide-bound by tradition, and they consoled themselves with the thought that this was how it had been for centuries in the past, before Voldemort, when the Black family had been the most powerful. Tradition was being upheld, and that's all that mattered.

* * *

 **1991-10-08 17:00 UTC, Hogwarts headmaster's office**

Prof McGonagall entered the headmaster's office without knocking. She did not need to, and even if she had, it would have been useless.

Through the door to his private quarters, she could see the headmaster was laid out on his bed, fast asleep. A most unusual hour to be asleep, to be sure, but there he was. Exactly as she had been told. She could not say how long he had been asleep, but he had not come to breakfast, nor to lunch.

She opened up the floo and called the hospital wing. A minute or two later, Madam Pomfrey came through the floo. After running a few scans, she declared the headmaster to be temporarily unfit - he would be fine in a day or so, but meanwhile, McGonagall would have to take control of the wards. She then put her patient on a conjured stretcher, and floo-ed back to her domain with them.

Prof McGonagall stood in the middle of the room, precisely over a runic design inlaid into the floor. Raising her wand, she intoned, in a clear, crisp voice: "In fulfillment of my oath of office, and due to the headmaster being indisposed, I now accept control of Hogwarts Castle", she said.

As Deputy Headmistress, she already had _some_ control, so she knew what it felt like when she got _all_ control.

She waited a few seconds for the feeling to settle, then she crossed to the wall opposite the large desk. An invisible panel in the wall opened at a touch, and she pulled out a key.

She then inserted the key in a keyhole at the end of the same wall, and unlocked a door, revealing the Hogwarts ward room.

* * *

 **1991-10-09 03:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

A short figure silently went about Hogwarts, at an ungodly hour. The portraits were all asleep, and the ghosts, even if they did not sleep, were nowhere to be seen.

The short figure first went to the headmaster's office. It spent no more than two minutes there, leaving with a sword longer than the figure himself was tall.

The figure then went quietly into Myrtle's bathroom. It spent almost twenty minutes there, but did not come out. Instead, a full grown wizard came out. He held up the sword, said something, and the sword vanished.

* * *

 **1991-10-09 07:00 UTC, Hogwarts hospital wing**

"Why am I here Poppy?"

"You were exhausted, Albus. God alone knows what you do, for you never tell us anything, but Minerva found you fast asleep on your bed at 5pm yesterday, and called me. Anyway you are good now, you can go!"

* * *

 **1991-10-29 23:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Voldemort was annoyed. For nearly the last three weeks, he, or rather, his host, had been unable to leave the castle. Oh he could certainly have left, but there was something about the wards that seemed to say he would not be able to come back in.

He had considered complaining to the headmaster - who else could alter the wards? - but his master had warned him very strongly against such an action. The old man was no fool, and he would instantly realise something was wrong.

He was not sure _when_ the wards had changed. Thank God he had made a trip to Diagon Alley just last weekend - after he had discovered the stone was a dud - to get the potion ingredients he would need for the ritual.

Yes, The stone had turned out to be a dud - he knew within a few seconds that it was not the real one, and he had quietly put it back, growling in anger. That was almost a month ago.

He knew he had one horcrux left, so he was safe. But he needed to quickly create a new body, and he knew just how to do it. He would take the Potter brat on Halloween, go to Little Hangleton, and have Quirrell perform the ritual, with Quirrell himself entering the cauldron along with the other ingredients. Ideally there should be someone else performing the ritual, but he knew it would work even this way.

Quirrell was uncomfortable with this plan. He wanted to ask his master why they could not take the boy right now and leave, but he knew the answer. His master wanted the symbolism of the date.

Voldemort would have been stunned to be told he should have chanced asking Dumbledore - the headmaster would have expressed surprise (he genuinely did not know) and happily opened the wards to him.

(On the off-chance that this might happen, the main exit and all seven other exits were being watched by house-elves - most of them freed from households of Voldemort's own death-eaters, had he known! - who were waiting to trap him and immediately send word to Dobby, the Malfoy elf who seemed to have changed suddenly one night.)

All in all, without knowing all this, Quirrellmort chose the safest option.

* * *

 **1991-10-31 04:00 UTC, location unknown**

Hobby woke up, and popped to Hogwarts. Today would be a long day, so he had prepared by getting enough sleep, having set Nolly to watch over the kids last evening. Of course Nolly was not Hobby, but - after several years of working for the Flamels - had certainly changed enough to do a passable job.

Today would be the end of his mission. He had gambled that Voldemort would not try anything until a symbolic date arrived, and that gamble had paid off. He had shadowed the kids, or had them shadowed by other elves, but luckily nothing had happened till now. But today, something would. He was sure of it.

* * *

 **1991-10-31 06:00 UTC, Hogwarts**

Harry and Hermione also knew something would happen today. They had been warned to stay alert, and that Hobby would almost always be with them. If Hobby had to leave, for some reason, they were supposed to stay close to the rest of their class group - under **no** conditions were they to separate and go somewhere else without Hobby accompanying them.

At present, they had just decided to take an early morning walk around the lake. The weather had definitely turned somewhat nippy, but they enjoyed these walks. And today was a special day - even without potential Voldemort drama, this was the anniversary of his parents' deaths, and it helped Harry to spend a small amount of time in a quiet, peaceful, environment.

They had just passed the large doors at the front entrance, and were stepping out into the cold morning air, when it happened. Quirrell had appeared from nowhere and grabbed a hold of Harry.

He had to let go immediately, yelping in pain - his hand had started blistering where he had touched Harry. Thinking quickly, he switched to Hermione, put his wand to her neck, and told Harry to move.

Hobby was right behind them. He had stopped for literally a few seconds, to open the map, activate it, and look for Quirrell, when all this happened. He cursed the fates for the timing, and himself for not having kept a constant watch on Quirrell via the map, and followed, trying to decide if he should confront him right now or wait to see what he would do with the kids.

 _Well, let's see where he takes them_ , he thought. Quietly and invisibly, he popped to a corner up ahead, became visible, walked around the corner to face the three, and set to work polishing a suit of armour that happened to be just at the end. He saw the relief in their faces as they recognised him. Quirrellmort, of course, completely ignored the elf, and continued on his way.

They went straight to Myrtle's bathroom. He opened the entrance to the chamber.

"Get in, both of you, if you know what's good for you. You won't die - yet - so don't worry. There's a slide".

Harry and Hermione appeared to glance briefly behind Quirrell, then turned around and did as they were told.

Hobby waited with bated breath to see if Quirrell would go in, too. That would require immediate action on Hobby's part - who knew what Voldemort would do to the kids if he saw the dead basilisk in the inner chamber.

But Quirrell simply closed the chamber entrance again, turned around, and went back to his chambers.

* * *

 **1991-10-31 08:00 UTC, Hogwarts great hall**

Breakfast started almost as usual. Despite how special the day was, it was not a holiday, so most of the kids were in.

Dumbledore knew Voldemort would try something today. Of course, he did not need Harry to die now, since even he could see the horcrux in the scar was gone, so all he had to do was save the boy's life, and he would be in Black's good books again.

And although he did not actually believe in prophecies, he _was_ beginning to wonder. Was this Phantom the "power he knew not"?

He was brought out of his musings rather sharply, due to a flurry of activity at the entrance to the hall.

There were several people walking in. He was not expecting anyone, let alone such a large group!

Minister Bones was at the head of the group, followed by the Chief Witch, Madam Longbottom. Behind them were Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Rufus Scrimgeur and Alastor Moody, with four aurors - two on each side - brought up the rear.

No wait there were two more people behind _them_. Nicholas and Perenelle. With that damnable elf between them, as if he were theirs, though there was no sign of his master, the Phantom.

 _What the hell was going on?_ , thought Dumbledore, more annoyed than he remembered being lately. He did not like people dropping in unannounced, leave alone such a large group. He was also getting a bad feeling about this - especially due to the presence of the Flamels.

Still, he stood from his place, and welcomed them, conjuring an extra table with a dozen chairs next to, and at a slight angle from, the staff table.

As they all - with the exception of the four aurors, who stepped back a few paces and stood guard - seated themselves, he said, "I am surprised to see such a large and diverse group arriving so unexpectedly", he said. "Was there a particular reason you are all here?"

Before anyone could reply, Quirrell entered the room.

Now, one would normally expect visitors to ignore a staff member arriving a few minutes late to breakfast, but in this case, all the visitors turned to him, as if _he_ was what they were here for, and waited for him to speak.

* * *

Voldemort had been quite pleased with the quick way he had captured and held the Potter boy and his mudblood friend. They could not escape - and if any harm came to him they would _never_ escape. But he did not expect any harm to come to him. He had decided to go about the day normally, letting the tension about the missing boy-who-lived build. By lunch time, the castle would be in chaos. He would then go back to the chamber just after lunch, grab the kid, and leave by the other exit - the one that the basilisk used to hunt - which opened well into the forbidden forest, close to the ward boundary. He would go to the Gaunt shack to grab a cauldron, then go to the graveyard. By 4pm, the ritual would be ready. By 5pm, he would have a new body.

But when he entered the hall from the staff entrance, he found a lot more people than he had ever seen - a lot more than just the students.

And he saw two people who made him change his plans.

* * *

"Aah, Mr Flamel", he said, ignoring everyone else. "I am so happy to meet you at last."

"Who are you?", said Nick.

"I am Professor Quirrell, and I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts here. Well, until yesterday anyway. I am leaving today, but before I go, I have an exchange to effect".

He looked at Sirius, then Dumbledore. "Lord Black, how much is your godson worth, to you?"

"Interesting question. Why do you ask?", said Sirius mildly.

"Well, is he worth enough for you to persuade the Flamels to hand over their stone?"

"Why should I persuade anyone to have over anything to you?"

"Because I have your precious godson, and I have him in a place that only I can get to."

"Really? And what place would that be?"

"Salazar Slytherin's famed Chamber of Secrets", sneered back Quirrell.

Sirius snorted. "As if _you_ would know anything about it! You were a useless muggle studies teacher, from what I have heard, and you came back as an equally useless DADA teacher."

A sibilant sound came from Quirrell, though he was clearly not speaking. "Quirinus, it is time I took over. Step back".

Quirinus appeared to nod. His face started morphing, and Hobby was stunned to see it turn into Voldemort. _He is no longer on the back of Quirrell's head_ , he thought, surprised. _This never happened in my time_ , he thought. He then reasoned that this must be a one-way thing; clearly Voldemort had decided the Quirrell persona had outlived its usefulness.

If Voldemort expected everyone to start screaming and running, he was surprised. Only a few of the professors reacted, but that did not include Dumbledore, McGonagall, or Flitwick. Seeing them not reacting, the others quieted down quickly.

"As you can see, I am far more than a _useless DADA teacher_. I am the Dark Lord, and you shall all feel my wrath soon. Now, Black, you had better persuade Flamel here to give me his stone, or say goodbye to your godson. As I said, you cannot rescue him. Only a parselmo-"

"I don't know if you're mad or your host Quirrell is mad, but my godson is sitting right there, with the rest of his class", said Sirius, pointing at the Gryffindor table.

Voldemort did a double take. "How- this must be a trick. **No one** can get into the chamber except me, because I am the only parselmouth".

He raised his wand and aimed at the Gryffindor table. Hobby quietly put him in a body bind. A resurrected Voldemort may have been a bit of a challenge but Quirrellmort was not.

Sirius smirked at him. "Looks like you're not the only one here, you jumped up son of a squib", he said, making the bound Dark Lord even more angry.

The aurors, Rufus, and Kingsley were spreading out, putting themselves in between Voldemort and his line of fire to any of the house tables. Minerva and Filius joined them, as did Minister Bones and Madam Longbottom. However, the Flamels, and Remus Lupin, looked calm.

Remus was grinning, in fact, and Amelia - turning to what he was looking at - realised that someone had put the dark lord in a body bind.

Amelia decided not to ask who had done that. She'd get her answers later, she decided. She was sure Sirius would know - after all, he had orchestrated the whole thing so far, asking all of them to come and see the dark lord finally defeated.

Quietly signalling to Kingsley, she had him take charge of Voldemort. There would be no trial for him, no opportunity for him to posture or preen in front of a, still not wholly reliable, gathering of wizards and witches. Kingsley had his orders - straight to the veil room and chuck him in.

Because the petrification was elf magic, even the original Voldemort's formidable power would not have worked. And since no one _knew_ that elf magic was used, the aurors had taken their own precautions. They had brought extremely powerful magic suppressors - bracelets for the wrists, arm bands for the upper arms, a neck band, a waist band, and more.

Unfortunately, once all of them had been slapped on and activated, Quirrell's magic - already weakened by months of possession - was suppressed so much it could no longer sustain the possessing spirit.

Quirrell collapsed.

Black smoke rose from the body.

Hobby quickly conjured an opaque barrier between the two tables with the adults, and the rest of the hall. He did not want the children to see this.

Catching Dumbledore's eye, he mouthed, "watch this".

Raising his hand, he grabbed a sword that seemed to appear out of thin air. It was longer than he was tall, but he wielded it effortlessly, slicing through the ghostly, semi-transparent, body of the dark lord.

The smoke exploded into a million pieces on the second stroke, and slowly wafted away.

* * *

After the dust had settled, Minister Bones took charge. Dumbledore wanted all the students to be sent off to their common rooms, but - after a brief conference with Sirius and Madam Longbottom - Amelia rejected that idea.

"I think the students will benefit from seeing what we are going to do here", she said. "And then, we also have some friends from the journalistic fraternity that we need to oblige", she smirked. Only then did Dumbledore notice four people at the end of the hall, two of them with cameras.

 _OK, something is definitely up_ , thought Dumbledore. He was also puzzled by how an _elf_ , of all things, could even find, let alone wield, Gryffindor's sword, but that question, while interesting, would have to wait.

"Albus, we will be asking you a few questions, and you had better answer them completely truthfully, or we will use a truth potion. Trust me we already know most of the answers so we can easily tell whether you are telling the truth or not".

"If you know most of the answers, Amelia, why question me at all?"

"Well first, of course, to fill in a few gaps. But more than that, to determine your continuing status in our world. Status quo can only continue if you are found to be completely blameless."

"We shall start", said Madam Longbottom, "with this question: how could the wards allow such a person in? I have always been led to believe they would keep out dark magic."

"He was supposed to have reset them after Snape was kicked out", offered Professor McGonagall. "I did remind him a few times, but I can't be sure he did it".

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes the wards needed to be reset after Snape was removed from his post. But they _are_ very old wards, so maybe we need to have someone look at them again", he said.

(Needless to say he had no idea that Professor McGonagall had taken control of the wards, albeit very recently!)

Remus looked at Amelia. "Minister, notice he does not say anything about whether he actually attempted to reset them or not."

Dumbledore looked sharply at him. "May I ask what is your locus standi here? Lord Black has his godson. The others are in their official capacities or have children here or both. How are you connected with Hogwarts?"

"You are correct, I don't have any. But locus standi did not prevent you from putting Harry in an abusive household - when you were neither one of the named guardians nor the executor of the will nor anything else. Answer the question", growled Sirius.

"Don't you get tired of trotting out a story that is now ten years old?" persisted Dumbledore.

Amelia held up her hand. "Clearly, he has not attempted to reset the wards. This is exactly why we need veritaserum for him. However, we are not totally sure if he has some protection against it, in the form of some preventative potions."

"Do not worry about that, Minister Bones", said Hobby.

Hermione had suggested that the Phantom should fade away - appearing only occasionally - while Hobby, speaking normal English and behaving independently, should be the face of the Phantom from now on. Nick and Penny thought it was a fantastic idea, and this was his first public appearance, so to speak.

While those who did not know him before were picking up their jaws, he continued. "I've had him tailed constantly over the last seven days, and we've reviewed everything he has ingested during that time. He's not immune to the truth serum".

(Due to the shock of hearing an elf speak like a human, no one paid any attention to his actual words. It would take several _years_ for people to realise the significance, at a truly general level, of what the elf said today. But that is not part of _this_ tale.)

" **Impossible!** " shouted Dumbledore. "Even your master can't manage that!"

"He didn't. I did. I just assigned some elves to the job, and told them exactly what to watch for."

"Hogwarts elves would not have listened to you", sneered Dumbledore.

Hobby looked at Penny and raised an eyebrow.

"But they were not Hogwarts elves", smirked Penny.

Dumbledore fell silent for a second or two, then bounded back. "I have reason to believe that Voldemort is not truly gone, because there is a prophecy. It says only Harry Potter can truly defeat him. Since this elf is clearly **not** Harry Potter, Voldemort is still alive somewhere. He will return. You must all listen to me. Only I know how to deal with him".

"Really, Albus? Have you forgotten we already told you we know the prophecy, back when we invited you to Pandora's lab? We also know you don't believe in prophecy yourself, and use it only as a convenient excuse when you are able to", said Penny. Turning to Amelia, she said, "second question to ask him when we interrogate him: do you believe in prophecies?"

* * *

If anyone noticed, over the course of the next hour, that the students were all in the great hall, watching everything with wide-open eyes - even Ron Weasley - no one mentioned it. As a result, for the first time in history, a partial trial of such an exalted personage as Albus Dumbledore, happened, not in a courtroom in the Ministry, but in the great hall at Hogwarts. And with veritaserum, no less!

Sentencing would have to be deferred till the full Wizengamot met, but interrogation and collecting evidence could be done anywhere.

Some of the questions were run-of-the-mill, but there were also a lot of hard-hitting ones - questions whose answers pretty much sealed Dumbledore's fate.

Amelia started with "Did you attempt to reset the wards to disallow dark magic after Professor Snape was sentenced to house arrest?"

"No".

"Why not?"

"I knew at some point, Voldemort would enter the castle. He needs to enter, and have several confrontations with Harry Potter".

"Did you know Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"When did you find out?"

"As soon as he entered the castle for the staff meeting to prepare for the new academic year".

"And yet you did nothing about it?"

Silence.

Sirius whispered in Amelia's ear.

"Do you believe in prophecies?"

"No."

"Then why do you say Voldemort needs to confront Harry?"

"Because Voldemort believes in prophecy."

"Did you really think Harry would be able to survive an encounter with Voldemort at the age of 11?"

Silence. Evidently this was not a question that had a clear-cut answer in Dumbledore's mind.

"Were you confident that Harry would beat Voldemort?"

"No."

"Were you planning on giving Harry any training at all prior to this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because no amount of training can help when a first year is pitted against Voldemort."

"So you knew Harry might die, in fact the chances were high that he would die."

(Out in the students area, Hermione had Harry locked in a hug so tight he had trouble breathing, but neither of them noticed immediately.)

"Yes."

"What would happen after Harry died?"

"I had hoped Harry would weaken Voldemort enough so that I could finish him off."

"Were you doing all this for the glory?"

Silence.

"Were you doing all this to attempt to steal the Potter fortune, somehow?"

Silence.

It seemed the real reason could be a combination of things, so unless you guessed what that was and asked precisely that, they would not get an answer.

* * *

In the end they decided to not bother about it. The questioning had already gone on too long, so they also decided to ignore issues like Sirius Black's incarceration. They already had enough to "hang him", so to speak, just with the illegal takeover of Harry's life, compounded with blatantly putting his life in **mortal** danger.

And that was not even considering the fact that he had put **all** the children in Hogwarts in similar danger - Amelia planned to lead with this conclusion in the Wizengamot, for good reasons: many of the Wizengamot members had a young relative currently _in_ Hogwarts!

That, combined with giving Snape a job teaching children, despite knowing it was Snape who had conveyed the prophecy to Voldemort, sealed his fate.

The following morning, in an emergency session, he was sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole, and _with_ magic suppression devices. The dementors were no longer a factor, so this was _not_ deemed unusually cruel.

Dumbledore died a few years later. There were, of course, still a few die-hard believers, but not too many. He was buried in an unmarked grave on Azkaban island itself - Sirius made a very strong case for the Wizengamot to not permit Aberforth to have him interred at his family plot in Godric's Hollow, since James and Lily were there too.

* * *

The wizarding world changed, though gradually, over the next decade. Having their most prominent young citizen return to a muggle home made a big difference. His godfather would invite his ever-increasing circle of friends over for his birthday, and give them ever-larger and more interesting doses of muggle culture.

Things did not stop there. Hobby had Sirius and Minerva meet, encourage, and if needed fund, one muggleborn's family in each succeeding year to be able to outfit their houses similarly to Sirius's own, and do the same to _their_ year group. This went on for several years, and was probably the single biggest factor in improving the race issue in the long term.

The Order of the Phoenix was re-created by Alastor Moody, one of the oldest members of the original order and, until the events of 1986, a good friend of Dumbledore. There was some objection to the name, due to its long association with Dumbledore, but Moody argued that if the phoenix was such a symbol or "pure, white, light magic" as most people claimed, then it is impossible for the taint to stick.

It functioned, however, very differently now. It had a proper hierarchy (i.e., don't give one person too much power), a _written_ set of rules for conduct, especially by its senior officers (i.e., don't let the people who do have the power, use it indiscriminately), and a flexible but narrowly focused set of objectives (i.e., don't try to meddle in / solve everything), all of which were welcomed by the members. And if anyone felt a measure of guilt that they themselves had contributed to Dumbledore's ego by _not_ insisting on something like this the last time, they kept it to themselves.

* * *

Needless to say, Harry and Hermione (and Neville and Susan and Luna, among others), had fairly uneventful years at school, and went on to perfectly normal (or what passes for normal in the wizarding world) lives. To Hobby's delight, Hermione and Harry did _not_ start thinking of each other as siblings, and did get married.

Sirius never married, and in fact once Harry was about fifteen and no longer a "child", Sirius even played the field a bit. However, he spent more and more time with Rosmerta. She refused to leave the Three Broomsticks, while he wanted to stay at Grimmauld, so they settled for an amicable, "friends with benefits", lifestyle. Eventually, when she got too old to manage the place, she relented, and moved in with Sirius at Grimmauld, but they _still_ did not get married.

(However, when Sirius eventually passed, Rosmerta wore black for a whole month).

Remus and Tonks did get together - with absolutely **no** prompting or even hinting from Hobby, proving that even the most EQ-challenged author can get _some_ relationships right once in a while.

* * *

Hobby lived with Nick and Penny for decades, learning alchemy, and also history - especially modern history, both muggle and magical. He eventually stopped using the Phantom persona, settling to be just an elf, albeit a very unusual one. Anyway, it was either that, or allow Amelia to finally guess who the Phantom was!

Hermione and Hobby caused quite an uproar among house-elves with their radical ideas, and even if the other elves did not suddenly decide to become free, their lives did become better in many ways.

Hobby also took it upon himself to watch over the wizarding world. He would turn up, invisibly of course, at Wizengamot meetings, just to listen and understand which way the winds were blowing. On rare occasions, he would even whisper suggestions, objections, and other thoughts, to Sirius, while remaining invisible.

More than that, Hobby ended up nipping several incipient blood-based movements in the bud, simply by listening in on Wizengamot meetings, and then quietly spying on selected members. A bit questionable, perhaps, but he was careful to preserve their privacy as much as possible, trying to always fix the _problem_ rather than the _people_.

Hobby's lasting contribution was a cadre of free elves who basically became the wizarding world's silent troubleshooters. Working closely with the reborn Order of the Phoenix, Hobby's elves became the mainstay of a lasting change for the better in the wizarding world.

 **The End**

* * *

Final **AN**.

Yes, it was pretty ambitious of Hobby to deal with both these guys on the same day, but I knew if anyone could do it, our Hobby could!

Jokes apart, I do agree if you think it was a bit rushed. However, as I said in the last chapter, most of the other stuff has been dealt with, so there's not much left.

Thank you once again to all who have reviewed, added it to their favourites or watch lists, etc. I'm glad most of you seem to have liked it. Thank you also to the eagle eyes who caught some errors - one was the vanishing cabinet thing, and more recently someone caught the "ICW papers" thing. Since neither of those errors actually affect the plot, I'll make a note and fix them later, as time permits.

( _Jestrbob_ \- Dunning-Kruger is a fantastic piece of research; please buy him a beer or something from me; I'll owe you!)

I think I scored one or two firsts in HP-fanfic land. Apart from the "coming back as Hobby" thing, I am most proud of Remus's backstory - the muggle detective agency specialising in surveillance and hostage extraction. I think that is ripe for an AU (AU to an AU!) that takes that direction. If I find time, I will give it a shot. If any of you wants to, go ahead and try it - the more the merrier. It'd be nice to let me know so I can read it too.

Hobby's life going forward, as described above, is also possible grist for the fan fiction mill. Same deal: write it if you like, or I will try it at some point.

(Don't ask for the one where Hermione got her revenge on a muggle government agency that hacked her - that story will probably never come out unless an insider leaks it! Although, we could probably describe how it was Hobby that actually started the whole sequence of events by his actions, but since he does not exist in the muggle world, it got mistakenly attributed to Hermione!)

I do have several one-shots planned. Writing this fic has taught me that, due to my job, regular updates will be a challenge (at least until I retire!). So I'll be switching to one-shots or smaller "publish only when complete" fics for now. Expect to see a few over the coming months.

 **Thank you all once again! Until my next fic... goodbye!**


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